The Praxian
by Autobot Chromia
Summary: Who will want the unwanted? Who will love the unloved? Who will help the helpless? Not many, sadly. In Prowl's case, a good few care. From being nearly extinguished as a newspark to abuse and illegal activity, who will come to his rescue and pull him out of despair? Youngling fic. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Where is she?" a black mech, panting hard from running through town, frantically begged the medic as he grabbed hold of his shoulder.

His processor still spun with a torrent of emotions. A night in the town, relaxing with some friends before the birth of his sparkling, had completely turned into a night of disorder when an emergency comm. had entered his HUD.

'_Not much time.' _it read shortly. _'Sparkling came Early. Complication.'_

He hadn't needed to read more before he tore himself away from his friends, the cube of high grade in his hands crashing and slopping onto the floor behind him.

If the medic cared about being rough-handled he did little to show it. Instead his optics shone with sympathy as he watched the frantic mech before him. He sighed. This part was never easy.

"Sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news." the orange and yellow medic said sullenly. "Sir," he looked down briefly before steeling himself and looking back up at the black mech "...you're bondmate is offlining." He finished softly. "I'm sorry."

The news hit the black mech as hard as if someone had just physically punched him in the gut. He released the medic and staggered back, shock taking over his features. He glanced past the medic at the doorway behind him, fear licking him inwardly as he realised what waited for him inside. As fast as the fear hit, searing white-hot rage took its place, taking with it all semblance of sanity as it boiled over. He clenched his fist and swung hard at the medic, satisfied as he heard his fist connect its target.

The medic, not expecting such a physical manifestation of rage and pain, staggered back and braced himself against the wall as he raised a servo to the soft cheek metal that had buckled beneath the rock solid fist.

"I need to see her, now!" the black mech seethed, his anger and pain distorting his visage and voice.

"She's in your berthroom." the medic said softly, one servo still held over his leaking cheek while the other pointed in the direction of the room.

The black mech spared him a quick look before bolting into the house, so familiar with the layout that he never hesitated a single step. As he burst into the room, a soft sob reached his audios. A few nurses, white in color with different colored highlights, stepped out of the mech's way as he went to the berth.

"Demon." the soft yellow and dusty pink femme murmured, her voice as soft as the colors that embraced her frame.

"CloudDust." Demon whispered brokenly, one of his servos gently caressing her pastel- colored cheek while the other soothingly stroked her doorwing.

Demon tore his optics away from CloudDust and looked at the berth in a mixture of shock, disgust, and horror. Energon rapidly soaked into the sheets and cloths beneath the femme as she continued to bleed out.

"Demon-" CloudDust repeated softly as her strength failed her and her optics dimmed. She could see his shock, anger and fear, and it hurt her even worse than the physical pain she was in, but at that moment she only had one thought dominating her processor. "Care for him. Please."

Light blue coolant pooled in Demon's optics and slipped down his black cheek as he pressed her hand to his cheek. He nodded numbly, not really taking in what she was asking him, not wanting to. This could not be happening, she was everything to him. She was what kept him sane.

CloudDust smiled weakly as she gave him one last loving look before her optics faded out and the shutters closed.

Demon stared down at the still, greying frame. His mind was numb and his spark ached as his world came to a crashing halt. His spark stopped the same time hers did, but his frame continued to function.

One of the nurses quickly came forward and laid a hand on the small femme's chassis. "Doctor…" she called, pulling the black mech away from the grayed frame to make room for the doctor.

The doctor hurried over to the berth. He leaned over the femme and listened for any sign of ventilation. Finding none, he checked for a pulse. Half a breem went by before he lifted his helm slowly and looked at Demon before giving a tiny shake of his helm. Demon stood numbly as the medic drew one of the sheet's over the femme's face plates.

"Sir?" one of the nurses said softly as she gently took hold of his servo. "Sir, you need to sit down."

Demon shook his helm and jerked his servo from her soft touches, he didn't want to go anyhere. He wanted to be with CloudDust. He needed to be with her, but it was one wish that wouldn't be granted to him, because he had not made that vital commitment that would have allowed it.

"Sir, we need to begin treatment on you before you join her in the Well." The white and violet femme pressed on, not wanting to witness another death on her shift.

"We...we weren't bonded." Demon whispered.

The violet femme looked perplexed as she glanced at a small cradle at the other side of the room. "But-but the sparkling-"

The doctor frantically shook his helm and waved servos, trying to warn her to leave the subject well alone for now, but it was too late.

Demon whirled around quickly, his visage distorted as his optics blazed, boring into the violet femme.

"The sparkling! Where is it?" he asked, his helm snapping around like a crazed mech. This was the sparkling's fault. If it hadn't been for _it _then CloudDust would still be here.

A busty femme nurse, white with dark red patches on her shoulders to show her rank, stepped away from a large cradle. Demon rushed over to the cradle, murderess intent clear in his blazing optics, only to be halted violently by a strong hand grabbing his arm.

"No!" the medic cried out. "Don't go near it! He's... misshaped. Deformed!" The medic spat as he held onto Demon's arm. There was no sympathy, no endearment in his voice as he talked about the sparkling.

Demon growled as he glared at the medic. "I told her to extinguish it! You yourself told us of its deformities!"

The medic nodded in agreement, his hand still gripping the black wrist before the black mech did something they all would regret. "It's too late, now. I could have extinguished the second spark before it went down; I could have crushed the helm before it was completely formed. But not anymore." His cold optics stare back into Demon's enraged ones, his voice calm and collective in the seriousness of the predicament.

"I told her to do it! It was all her!" Demon bellowed. He turned his helm back to the cradle. "She wanted to keep that _thing_." He spat the last word as if it was the vilest curse on the planet.

"It's too late to do anything, though." the medic stated. "We can't kill it now. The Enforcers will be all over us. We could be tried by the Prime!"

Demon growled at the mention of the new Prime. A young, foolish mech by the name of Optimus. How dare this mech say how sparklings and younglings should be treated, and how strong punishments should be for those who hurt or kill one! It was hard enough to extinguish a newspark, now. Frag, it was _illegal_.

"I don't care." Demon stated, still looking at the cradle. "I want it gone!"

"Please." a scared, timid voice came from behind the arguing mechs. Both turned to see a petit, white and pink femme with large, tear filled optics. "Please, don't kill him. He can't help his condition."

"The monster should be killed!" Demon roared. "For the better of society, so that they would not have to look at its hideous face."

"There's nothin' wrong wi' 'is outward appearance!" the busty white and red nurse boomed from beside the cradle, folding her arms across her chest. "It's all in 'is 'elm." She stated as she cocked her head in the sparkling's direction and tapped her temple.

"Please, give him to me." the first femme keened. "I'll find a home for him. Please, I promise that his creators will never be known. Please." She folded her servos in front of her as she pleaded with the two mechs before her.

Demon shot her a look that threatened to melt her into a pile of molten scrap. She took a timid step back, but bumped into the busty femme who stood behind her. The busty nurse placed a hand on the small of her back, wordlessly supporting her.

Demon glared at the two for a moment longer, then turned his helm back to the berth, staring at the white-linen draped over the frame of his life-force. "Take the thing." Demon growled. "This never happened. I never knew of it, CloudDust and I never had it. You all were never here."

The timid femme nodded hurriedly as she rushed over to the cradle and scooped up a small, tightly-wrapped bundle. She shushed the infantile cries that started as she skittered away, leaving the small, ill kept, dirty house behind her.

She ran faster and faster, harder and harder into the night, her spark hammering against her chest as tears streaked across her face. The little bundle started to wail again.

"Hush, now, little one." she said softly as she continued to run. "AngelBane won't let anything happen to you. No, I won't. You'll be safe with me, little one. They won't hurt you. I'll get you to a safe place."

Her soft voice seemed to have a soothing effect on the sparkling, as his cries quieted down to soft, broken vents.

The femme transformed around the little one and continued her trek. She drove deep into the night and well into the early hours of the next day. A tall building, marked by towering steeples and ancient architecture, came into view. The building rose from the middle of a quiet town that was still peacefully sleeping, unaware of the tragedy that had surrounded the birth of a small, innocent spark.

AngelBane drove up to the towering ediface and transformed. The bundle slipped perfectly into her servos as she went to the staircase leading up to the door. She wiped a tear from her optic as she set the bundle at the door of the building.

"You'll be safe here, little one." she promised as she kissed her digits and pressed it to his forehelm. She bundled him up more, tucking the small blanket around him to protect him from the crisp morning air. She gave a watery smile as she stared down at the small bundle. His face was completely covered by the blanket, making him look more like a parcel than a sparkling.

"I-I have to go. May Primus watch over you!"AngelBane said softly as she rose and ran away. She had to leave before this town woke up.

~8~

The sun crept up higher and higher into the sky, pushing the two moons far over the horizon as its first rays kissed the building tops. Bells chimed the early hour, ringing from the very building the sparkling had been left at. His scared and hungry cries barely radiated farther than the fourth step. Before the bells had finished chiming, the door opened.

A femme, a soft black shade with multiple white patches and a large, pointy, metallic habit gracing her helm, stepped out smilingly to greet the day. She stood basking in the morning glory until a soft wail caught her audios. The smile melted from her face plates as she looked at the source of the commotion. Her hands flew to her cheeks as she saw the little, wailing bundle abandoned at the bottom of the stairs.

"Primus have mercy." she breathed as she bent down to scoop up the small bundle.

She flipped up the warming blanket to look into the small black and white face of a tiny mech. His too small frame fit perfectly in the crock of her servo as he continued to cry out in both hunger and fright.

"Hush now, little one. There is no need for tears." the femme said as she carried him in, holding him close to protect him from the chilly morning air.

Multiple femmes bustled about inside, cleaning and cooking and praying. As the single femme with the sparkling went in, their chatter and laughter and songs all came to a screeching halt.

"Sister Charity, what is that?" another femme, smaller than the one with the sparkling but dresses exactly the same, breathed.

"What does it look like, Sister Love?" Sister Charity asked incredulously while holding the bundle up a little higher for all to see.

"Where did you ever find a sparkling?" another sister asked, having left her broom to look at the tiny bundle.

"Primus has sent him." Sister Charity answered Sister Hope as she smiled down at the wailing sparkling.

"A sparkling just doesn't appear out of thin air." Sister Hope stated as she leaned over Sister Charity's shoulder.

"This one did." Sister Charity replied cheekily as she leaned away from Sister Hope.

"Sisters, Sisters, we must not argue in a holy place." an aged voice stated.

A small, round femme well up in her years, limped a bit as she walked to the center of the gathered group. The nuns bowed slightly,sweeping back their black, woven capes marking them as Sisters of the Convent of Primus as they stepped out of her way.

"Carrier Grace." Charity said, bowing her helm as a sign of respect towards the older femme.

"Let me see him." Carrier Grace said indicating to the sparkling.

Sister Charity passed the sparkling over to Carrier Grace. Carrier Grace took the small sparkling and cooed softly at him, even though he had fallen silent moments ago, though from exhaustion or lack of sustenance, or both she was not sure. She narrowed her optics at the little one as she felt the coldness of his frame. When was the last time it had eaten? Testing her hypothesis, she slipped a digit into his tiny mouth, allowing him to suck weakly on it.

Carrier Grace's optic ridges rose as she watched the sparkling. "This little one needs nourishment! Have Sister Patience heat some low grade for him." Carrier Grace commanded.

Sister Patience nodded once and then scurried from the back of the group to the kitchen before the message could be repeated to her. She returned a few moments later. She bowed a bit at the elderly femme with the sparkling.

"Carrier Grace, I fear we don't have a bottle suited for a sparkling." Sister Patience said apologetically, but watched her superior closely for guidance.

"Then bring a dropper and the cube." Carrier Grace stated as she held the sparkling even closer to her chassis, trying to warm him with her own frame heat.

Patience nodded and hurried back to the kitchen. She returned in less than a breem with the necessary items.

Carrier Grace took the dropper and filled it with the warm, low-grade energon. She placed it in the sparkling's mouth, but the sparkling would have none of it.

"Come now little one, you need this." Carrier Grace encouraged as she tried again to insert the dropper into the sparkling's mouth. The fourth time, much to the relief of every Sister present, he latched and began to suck greedily at the much needed sustenance. Carrier Grace smiled down at the sparkling and repeated the action until his tank was full and half the cube was gone. The sparkling slowly drifted asleep as Carrier Grace gave the half-empty cube and dropper back to Sister Patience.

"He's a handsome little mech." A younger Sister stated as they watched the sparkling sleep.

"You must not say such things!" Sister Love exclaimed, looking distraught as she placed a servo over her spark. "We have all sworn to lives of chastise so that we may be more dedicated to serve Primus!"

"I meant for a sparkling!" the Sister, named Gratitude, retorted as she rolled her optics.

"Sisters." Carrier Grace said, silencing the group's idle chatter about what made sparklings handsome or why that term shouldn't be used. "A home needs to be found for this young one. We are a place of prayer, not a orn care center."

"There is a foster centre on the other side of the town." Sister Charity suggested. "I am certain that a family would love to take in a mech such as himself, him being so young and all."

A disappointed murmur went through the group before Carrier Grace raised a hand for silence.

"I believe that that would be the best idea." Carrier Grace stated, the stern look on her faceplate halting the others' objections. "Sister Love, run ahead and alert the foster center and see how soon we can get this little mech in. For the rest of us," Carrier Grace smiled, "we have a young guest to attend to."

A squeaked yawn came from her servos as the tiny sparkling blearily unshuttered his optics as he looked at the sisters crowding around him. He spared them a few moments before settling more firmly into Carrier Grace's warm servos and slipped back into recharge.

~8~

"The poor thing."

"It's most terrible."

"Dreadful. Simply dreadful."

"He'll never be able to function normally."

An orange medic shook his helm as he looked at the foster care centre directors. A tiny, premature sparkling lay on his medical table. His black and white body stood out well on the blue table top, and his tiny, budding doorwings seemed to bloom from his back.

A green femme grumbled on. "We'll never get a foster for him if they know about his..."

"Deformity." the medic returned. "A birth defect, really. One that may or may not be beneficial to him, depending on his development, of course." The medic said as he cleared his vents nervously.

"What exactly is it?" a mech, dark blue in color, asked as he glanced at the sparkling.

"His processor appears to be highly advanced. I'd say much more than even a fully developed adult, even though he still has to learn how to use it. That might take a while for him to master. But I warn you, he will be intelligent, too intelligent for his own good. It might fry his systems, make him socially inept, I don't really know exactly what it will do for him, but he will never be normal and he will never fit in."

The dark blue mech nodded his helm in acknowledgment. "Is that all?" he asked hopefully. If the youngling was a socially inept prodigy, they could still deal with it.

The medic hesitated a moment before he plunged ahead. "He also appears to have both a logic processor and a battle computer."

"Battle computer?" the green femme asked nervously. She folded her arms over her chassis as she glanced at the sparkling before looking back at the medic.

"Don't worry, it's dormant right now. Both are, actually. They won't activate for a few vorns, hopefully. The problem comes in that there appears to be an anomaly in his command cortex, where the two computers interlink which may cause certain undesirable…issues…later on." the medic grimaced as he tried to explain in simple terms.

"Meaning…?" The green femme asked as her optic ridges shot up. This was just getting worse by the breem.

"Meaning that he might have a glitch. It's a distinct possibility." The medic stated bluntly.

"Oh great." The green femme threw her servos up in the air and rolled her optics. "So now we have a glitch." She stated as she pinched her olfactory bridge before sighing heavily.

"Can we still get him a foster home?" the blue mech asked as he laid a hand on the femme's shoulder, trying to soothe her anxiety. It wasn't the sparkling's fault he was deformed.

"I don't see why you couldn't." the medic stated as he leaned against the medical berth. "Other than the fact that _no _family in their right mind would want to take him in."

The green femme nodded in agreement. She shook her partner's servo off her shoulder and headed to the sparkling, picking him up a bit rougher than needed. The sparkling began to cry as he sensed the renewed hostility towards him from all around.

"Ugh." the femme grumbled as she bounced the sparkling. "He needs to be fed again."

The mech got her a pre-prepared bottle of low grade and handed it over to her. She pressed the bottle into the sparkling's mouth, and sighed thankfully when the bottle seemed to pacify the sparkling, at least for the moment.

The foster care directors thanked the medic and left the office to head back to the orphanage.

When they reached the orphanage, they quickly deposited the sparkling in an empty crib, and a blanket hurriedly tossed over him.

"He has the looks." the mech mused as he stared down at the sleeping form.

"But the moment a family hears about his defect-" the femme began, her tone of voice indicating clearly her annoyance at the situation. Why did the new laws have to be so stringent?

"They won't have to." The mech stated boldly, still looking at the sparkling.

The femme turned wide optics to her companion. "But, Midnight, that would be dishonest." the femme said.

"Think about it, Flora." Midnight argued. "If a family doesn't ask, then we don't have to tell them! Besides, the medic said the computers won't activate for awhile. By then he should be in a home."

"I don't know..." Flora stated hesitantly as she looked back at the sparkling. The law stated that they were supposed to give a full disclosure of the sparkling or youngling's medical condition when one is considered for adoption.

"Hey, what's the worst that can happen?" Midnight asked. "The family finds out we knew all along, but by then it'll be too late."

"What about the law?" Flora asked. "We need to give a full disclosure of the sparkling's medical condition and history."

"The law states that the potential adoptive creators are entitled to full disclosure only if they ask for it." Midnight stated as he took Flora's servo in his own. "Besides, the medic said it was a _possibility_ that he has a glitch, not a fact. We wouldn't be lying if we said we didn't know." Midnight gave Flora's hand a small squeeze as he played his most charming smile.

"I guess it could work." Flora reluctantly agreed. She glanced up at Midnight and saw the charming smile playing at his lips. She rolled her optics as she smiled back at him, shaking her head lightly. "Fine, but only to get rid of him as soon as we can. I don't want a glitch running around, especially not one with a battle computer. Who knows what he might do to the other younglings."

Midnight drew her flush against him and planted a chaste kiss on her helm. "I knew you'd come to your senses. " he whispered seductively.

Midnight squeezed her servo then quickly left, having paperwork to set up.

"Pitspawn." Flora said sweetly as she stared at Midnight's retreating form. She turned and stared into the cradle. Her lips pulled down into a frown as she scowled at the peacefully recharging figure.

"You're more trouble than you're worth." She said and left, turning out the lights and leaving the room and the tiny sparkling to the cold, uncaring darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Prowl onlined his optics to find himself within the same four walls he had seen so many times before. He was the first one to wake, and slowly slunk out of the room and past the other fifteen recharge berths, some filled, some not. He easily slipped out of the room and out the back door. He sat on the very edge of the steps, swinging his stubby pedes a bit.

His processor whirred as he calculated the exact moment the sun would rise.

"3...2...1."

Right on cue, the first rays of sunshine peeped over the buildings. He loved this time of day, the few, quiet kliks he could steal. The time when most were still recharging, when there was no conversations going on that hurt his helm and made him act all...weird, as the others called it.

He vented a bit as the sun went up more, warning him that he had best get inside before the directors woke up and found him missing.

He was simply walking up the halls when a familiar green figure rushed towards him.

"Prowl, where were you?" she asked. Not allowing him time to answer, she grabbed his servo and dragged him up the halls. "I've been looking all over for you. You know better to wander away. You had better stop it as there's a bot here to see you."

"A bot?" Prowl repeated.

"Yes, and he does _not _want to wait." Flora said firmly as she pushed him into a room.

Inside the familiar room was a desk and two chairs. He had been in here so many times before. A nice family would come in and say they wanted someone, him maybe. They would take him home, the new parents about as excited as a youngling with a new toy. Then, like a toy, he would become old. If not, they would find out that he was broken and return him right back.

The same old sob story was getting old. Much to his surprise, there was only one bot sitting in the chairs. A mech, a rusty orange color with piercing red optics. The red optics didn't bother Prowl any, though. He'd been with a family before that had red optics. Heck, he knew a sparkling with red optics!

"This is him?" the stranger asked in a gruff voice.

"Indeed, Slipknot." Flora nodded. "This is Prowl."

"Hello." Prowl said as he was nudged roughly.

Slipknot grunted, his vocalizer grating in the process. "He strong?"

Flora nodded. "He's quite good at manual labour. He doesn't stop until he's called away."

"Good." Slipknot stated, eyeinge young Praxian. A look of distaste came over his face. "What's up with his back?"

"His back?" Flora repeated, confusion lacing her voice.

"What's those things sticking outta his back?" Slipknot asked, motioning at Prowl's doorwings.

"He is of Praxian descent." Flora explained.

"Hmm." Slipknot mumbled. "So he'll go all googly eyes when he sees a carrier?"

Flora nearly laughed. "Prowl? No, he won't suffer from Praxian Mating Cycle. Too good for that. Even if he did, it wouldn't become a problem until he was in his adult frame."

Slipknot nodded. He addressed Prowl directly. "You work real hard for me, mechling? Do what I say, no questions asked?"

Prowl nodded, knowing just what to do to get adopted. Agree with everything the host asked, answer the way that had the best probability. Anything to get out of this dump.

"He'll work out, then." Slipknot stated.

"Very good." Flora said. "Prowl, go gather your things. Slipknot, please follow me. There's some paper work you need to do. It'll only take a breem."

* * *

"Again?" a green and pink femme asked, swinging upside down on the top bunk.

"Yes." Prowl answered. "It seems I have another host creator, WildSide."

"Just one?" WildSide asked, flipping back off the berth and landing behind Prowl.

"It appears so." Prowl replied calmly, taking up a few data-pads he had obtained and sliding them into a bag.

"How long do you think it'll be this time?" WildSide asked, flopping down on his bottom bunk and propping her cheeks in her hands.

"I am uncertain." Prowl stated. "Neither my logic processor nor my battle computer is giving me good statistics on this matter. It makes me want to crash, running the scenario through them."

WildSide vented. "You said that, or something like that, last time you were fostered. It was only two weeks 'fore you came back."

"That family was very fickle." Prowl said. "They took nearly three orns just to decide if they wanted to adopt."

"Crashing three times didn't help them want to keep you, either." WildSide stated.

"It was impossible _not_ to." Prowl argued. "They bickered on everything, even the simplest matters. They quarreled about things they didn't fully understand, and made complete fools of themselves."

"Calm down." WildSide laughed. "You're gonna make yourself crash."

"I am not." Prowl argued, lieing right through his denta.

"You are a terrible liar." WildSide rolled her optics. "You get this hazed look in your optics, and your doorwings start getting all droopy."

Prowl vented. "I can't control that."

"What, the wings?" Wildside asked.

Prowl shook his helm, a melancholy look in his optics. "I know I'm supposed to. I've read about it, but I can't seem to get them to move by my command."

WildSide shrugged. "You'll get it someday. But right now, you better get _going_ before Flora has a fit."

Prowl nodded. "I'll probably be seeing you again."

WildSide chuckled. "Be seein' you, then!"

"Most likely." Prowl returned as he left for the halls. He shouldered his bag, and wished that he could legally operate a subspace.

Slipknot was waiting for him. "Ready to go, mechling?"

"Yes, sir." Prowl replied, shifting his too heavy bag.

He was only four vorns old, the bag was nearly was big as he! Of course, it only consisted of a few data-pads, but it was still heavy. Flora gave him a look as he went out the door, one that clearly read 'you-had-better-not-come-back-this-time'.

The rusted mech transformed at the road. He stood still, engine idling as if waiting for something.

"Aren't ya gonna transform?" Slipknot groused.

"I can't." Prowl replied, shifting his bag again. "I don't have an alt. mode."

Slipknot growled as he popped a door open. "I'll have ta fix that."

"I don't think that's legal." Prowl stated.

"It's not your job to think." Slipknot said firmly as he wrapped a seat belt around the youngling. "Lean forward, your doorwings don't feel right on my seat."

Prowl obeyed, for nearly three joor. They traveled from the small town the orphanage was set at to a large city. Prowl felt his optics widen at the tall towers and bulding that seemed to grow straight out of the ground. Of course, that was illogical, but that's what it _looked_ like.

"Is this Iacon?" Prowl asked, recognizing many buildings from books he had read.

"The one an' only." Slipknot stated.

Prowl pulled himself up on the window a bit, taking in everything. First hand experiences were so different then just reading it in books.

"There's the Capitol Building." Prowl said. "Where the Prime lives."

Slipknot grunted. "Yeah, whatever. I don't live there, so who cares?"

Prowl slumped back in his seat after they had driven past. He quickly jerked forward after a 'gentle' reminder about his doorwings on the seat. The nice, clean houses and buildings melted away to run-down houses and dirty streets.

"That there's the youth center." Slipknot said, passing a large building, completely gated in. "Better memorize the way."

Prowl nodded, and Slipknot heard a sharp click and loud whirring as his processor went into overdrive to memorize the route. It was only a few turns up to a tall apartment complex. The building was a solid color, brown with dirt. It seemed to have thousands of windows, but only 267, if counted.

"We're goin' up to level six." Slipknot stated.

Level six, apartment 37-B to be exact. Inside, Prowl was hit with a musty, moldy smell. Black splotches crawled up the wall, the refrigerator hummed loudly as some gear in it had slipped, and the living room light needed changing as the bulb was on its last leg. Of course, it was morning now so the black out curtains had been drawn back to let in the light.

"This here is my room." Slipknot said. "Stay out, unless I tell you otherwise."

Prowl nodded.

"Good. Wash racks over there, and your room's over there. Used to be a closet." Slipknot explained.

Closet indeed. The berth practically filled up the entire room, touched both walls. It did have some length to it, but not much. At least he had some room under the berth. His data-pads could go there.

"I don't need a lot of room." Prowl stated.

"Good, cuz that's all your getting." Slipknot replied. "Schools out for today, but your going tomorrow. They're expecting you, so you don't have to sign in or nothing."

Prowl nodded.

"Put your stuff away." Slipknot ordered. "And then meet me at the road. We gotta get you an alt. mode."

"I'm not-"

"What did I say on the way here? You better listen to me, no questions asked. You're mine, now." Slipknot said firmly.

"Yes, sir." Prowl hung his helm as he slid his bag under the berth.

He vented as he went to do as told. Looks like he was getting an alt. mode.

* * *

"Hurry it up back there." Slipknot barked.

A humerously small truck followed behind at a good distance away. Prowl could feel his energy draining as he drove. Those laws must have been made for a good reason.

"Coming." Prowl strained, trying to stay on his side of the street.

"Got only one rule for ya with this alt." Slipknot stated as the youngling sped up to try and keep up. "Don't get caught. I ain't going to prison because you can't keep yourself under the radar."

Prowl would have rolled his optics had he been in bi-pedial mode. "Do I use it to go to the youth center?"

Slipknot thought for a second, quite a feat in Prowl's processor. "Transform a block away so that ya don't get caught."

"Yes, sir." Prowl replied, thankful as they pulled onto the road to the apartment complex once again.

It had taken awhile to get his alt. mode, from a very greasy dealer. They had bargained and bartered for joors until it got quite dark. A deal had finally been struck, well into the late hours of the night.

"Get to your berth. School starts early. Don't expect me to be here." Slipknot said as he went to his own room, after locking the front door.

"Why not?" Prowl asked, flinching as he felt a strong hand on his cheek.

"I told you not to question me." Slipknot growled. "I got work to do. Now get to bed."

Prowl hurried away, not wanting to be hit again. He fell to sleep almost instantly, too tired and drained from driving.

* * *

Prowl woke up a few joor before he needed to. He had only had two joor of recharge so far, but his tanks hurt so badly he wanted to cry. He staggered up and went into the kitchen area, looking about as if afraid to find Slipknot there.

He went into the fridge, it's light illuminating his pedes and face. It was close to bare, except for a few dark blue cubes in the front and a few teal ones in the back. Prowl grimaced, the teal color showing just how spoiled the medium grade was. A second look, though, showed nothing else but the high grade.

Venting, he took the teal cube and hurried back to his room. He lay down on the berth, near tears because his tank was so cramped. He quickly took a sip of the cube, nearly choking on it.

Not only was it horribly spoiled, it was unrefined and unpurified. It was thick and gritty and full of chunks. It was sour and tart and bitter all at once, instead of sweet like low grade. But, he didn't have any choice. He hadn't refueled at all the other day, and had depleated his reserves from driving. He needed this fuel, and drained it without a second thought.

His tank grinded ominously, still upset, but now for other reasons. He was too drowsy now, though, to purge it back up. He slumped over and fell into recharge.

* * *

He couldn't be late! He couldn't! He had nearly overslept, pushing the very limits of time. He had hurried out the door without a second thought, and transformed outside. He sped up the streets, remembering just in time that he had to walk the last block to remain undetected.

He went up to the gate, unhesitating as he walked in. The barred gate was wide open, letting in younglings of all kinds. He could see creators dropping off their creations, hugs being shared, a femme kissing her mechling on the forehelm before waving and leaving.

Prowl felt a little tug at his spark of jealousy, but brushed it away. It was illogical to want something he could never have, and feelings were just illogical period.

After entering the building, Prowl suddenly realized something. He had no idea how to get to his classroom. Panic filled his spark for only a second before his battle computer kicked into overdrive.

Of course, he would simply ask a sparkling around his age.

"You, -yes, you- how old are you?" Prowl asked a femmeling of violet color and about his size.

"I-I uh...four vorns?" she stammered.

"Are you saying or asking?" Prowl asked with an irritated vent.

"I-I...er-" she stuttered before turning and running away.

"That was well worth it." Prowl vented, upset that he had wasted time that he could have been usuing to get somewhere on a stupid sparkling.

No one else would stop or answer him, though. He found himself wandering around the sparkling, overly lit halls, aimlessly. He vented as he leaned against a wall, letting his doorwings buckle a bit. He rubbed nervously at his chevron, trying to figure out what to do.

"Hey, what'ch'ya doin'?" a heavily accented voice asked from beside him, startling him.

"Nothing worth stating." Prowl vented, slumping heavier on the wall.

"Ya' look lost." the mechling stated. Prowl turned to look at him. He was greated by a sharp smile and a blue visor. A mechling of similar colors to himself, as well. "Ah' Jazz."

"Prowl."

"Ya look 'bout mah age, goin' ta class?" Jazz asked.

"I was trying to." Prowl stated. "I'm four vorns."

"Same 'ere!" Jazz exclaimed. "Com'mon, Prowler! Ah'll take ya' to class."

"Pro-what?"

"Prowler. It's the new nickname Ah ju' gave ya. Ya like?" Jazz asked excitedly.

"My designation was fine." Prowl said as he followed the bouncing youngling up the halls.

"Ah like 'Prowler' better." Jazz said.

"Are you from around here?" Prowl found himself asking as he was led up a maze of halls.

"Nah, me 'n mah folks jus' moved 'ere while ago." Jazz answered. "Ya' don' look like yer from these parts either."

"I'm not." Prowl answered, and left it at that.

Jazz waited for Prowl to continue, but when he didn't, he found it better to leave it alone.

"Well, this 'ere's the room. Door no. fifteen." Jazz stated.

"Thank you." Prowl said blandly as Jazz pushed it open.

"Jazz." a pink femme acknowledged the youngling. "You're late."

"Sorry, Miss Coral." Jazz apologized. "Ah was 'elpin' Prowler 'ere ta find the class."

"Prowler?" Coral asked, turning to face the doorwinger,

"Prowl." Prowl corrected. "I-"

"He got lost an' Ah showed 'im the way." Jazz stated, taking Prowl around the shoulder and giving him a little shake.

"I was told you were coming." Coral said to Prowl. "I expect you to be on time, next time."

"Yes, ma'am." Prowl nodded.

"All right. Go take your seat, now. Class will begin." Coral stated.

"Ya can take the seat next ta me." Jazz said, his voice lowered as he pulled Prowl towards two empty seats in the very last row.

Prowl took his seat, and class started. It took everything in him not to fall into recharge. It was so very boring and mundane, and to top it all off, he knew everything. He was so very thankful when the noon bell rang, signalling for lunch.

"Com'mon, Prowler!" Jazz exclaimed, leaping from his seat the very moment the bell rang.

Prowl felt himself being grabbed by the doorwings. Not the first time this had happened, possibly the first time it had been done out of excitement instead of anger, but it hurt none the less. Jazz leapt back after Prowl gasped and hissed.

"Sorry! They sensitive much?" Jazz asked, looking at the extra appendages with curious optics.

"Very." Prowl gritted out, his doorwing still throbbing.

"Sorry, mech." Jazz said, shuffling his pede a bit.

"It's fine now." Prowl stated.

"Ya sure?" Prowl nodded. "Then let's go!"

"Where?" Prowl asked, all ready being half dragged down the halls.

"The cafeteria." Jazz stated, stopping at a locker and opening it up. "Ya know where yer locker is?"

"That I do know." Prowl stated, going simply a few lockers down to his own. He opened it and put his data-pad away.

"'K." Jazz said, taking a cube from his locker. "Cafeteria's those big doors down there. Ah'll save ya a seat!"

"Thank you." Prowl said as the youngling skipped off with his cube.

Prowl closed his locker with a vent. He should have known to bring his own lunch. He vented, his energy still low and his tank still empty from only having one cube so far in two orns. Another few joors wouldn't hurt him until he got back home, right?

"Where's yer lunch?" Jazz asked after Prowl sat himself down, right across from Jazz.

"I forgot it." Prowl said, his doorwings drooping against his will.

"Tha's too bad." Jazz said, looking at his half-empty cube. "Not havin' a good orn, huh?"

Prowl shrugged a shoulder, not entirely sure how to answer that. This day hadn't been all that bad, compared to others.

"You wan' the rest of mah cube?" Jazz offered, a bit timidly, pushing the sloshing liquid towards the other youngling.

Prowl licked his bottom lip a moment as he tried to think. His tank was starting to cramp up again, but it wouldn't be fair to Jazz if he tool it. He shook his helm after a good half-breem of consideration.

"Ya' sure?" Jazz asked.

Prowl nodded. "It's yours, besides, I'm not very hungry."

Jazz nodded, and took the cube back. Prowl lowered his helm to keep from starring as Jazz finished it. Jazz couldn't hide the twinge of guilt he felt as he put the empty cube back into his bag. He sat awkwardly silent, swinging his white pedes back and forth a bit as he tried to think of what to say. Prowl simply sat silently, simply not having anything to say, period.

"Hey." Jazz stated quite suddenly. "Ya know yer way ta the playground?"

"The what?"

"The playground!" Jazz exclaimed. "Ya can't tell meh that ya had never gone ta a playground before!"

Shyly, Prowl shook his helm back and forth. He was a bit startled as he was suddenly pulled from his seat. He didn't need to ask where the excitable Polyhexian was taking him, though, as he was led hurriedly through the halls.

* * *

By the time Prowl was able to stumble back into the apartment building, he was ready to collapse. Driving really was not a good idea, but he had been told to use and practice it. No questions.

"Took ya long enough, mechling." Slipknots gruff voice came from the dirty, torn gray sofa.

Prowl turned bleary optics the others direction, eyeing the cube of high grade in his hands. Slipknot rolled his optics and scoffed.

"Go grab a cube. Then come see me." he ordered.

Prowl didn't even nod before he went skittering towards the fridge. To his surprise, all of the spoiled cubes of mid grade had been tossed away and replaced. While still unrefined, unpurified, and mid instead of low, it helped immensely. The cramping in his tank soon subsided to a dull ache, and he didn't feel ready to crash.

Just as he had finished the cube, Slipknot had motioned for him to come closer.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're not going to school tomorrow." Slipknot stated.

Prowl stopped and looked at him with a bit of confusion in his optics. "Why?"

Slipknot scowled a bit at having been questioned, and Prowl ducked his helm and his doorwings lowered. "'Cause. Me and you is going to go on one of my deliveries together."

"Really?" Prowl asked, perking up a bit.

"This ain't some kind of vacation." Slipknot grumbled. "You're gonna be carrying the goods in your subspace while you ride in my cab."

"But-"

"No questions." Slipknot growled under his breath.

"Yes, sir." Prowl said lowly.

"Now get to your berth." Slipknot ordered. "We leave early."

Prowl nodded, a bit eagerly as an excitement known only to youth enveloped him. He hurried off to his berthroom and was soon in an exhausted recharge,

* * *

Prowl was abruptly jarred from a peaceful slumber by a hard, cold hand shaking him roughly. He could feel his processor rattle and his shoulder hurt a bit from where he had been grabbed.

"We leave in five breems." Slipknot grunted, "Refuel quickly."

Prowl nodded numbly, his processor still hazy and sluggish. He dragged himself from his berth and half stumbled to the fridge to grab one of the cubes. He only managed to drink half of the sludge before his tank started to rebel a bit. He had to replace it, and then hurried down to the street. Slipknot was there, and slid a oblique package into Prowl's hand.

"Put that in your subspace." Slipknot ordered, and watched hard as Prowl subspaced it. "You don't let anyone know what's in that, or where you got it hidden. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Prowl nodded as Slipknot transformed and opened his passenger door.

Prowl hopped in without hesitation, and refrained from hissing as the restraining harness was tightened a bit too tight. Prowl watched with interest as the last moon set and the sun rose, showing just how early it was. A bit too early for a youngling with an all ready suppressed energy levels.

Before Prowl could even try and fight it, he had slumped in his seat, and fallen into recharge.

"Hey." Slipknot called out sharply, jarring his cab. "Watch your wings."

The jerk did nothing more then cause Prowl's helm to fall to the other side, though, and cause him to mumble in discomfort. Slipknot vented in irritation, but decided that maybe it was for the best. At least Prowl would be quiet for the duration of the trip.

* * *

Prowl started as he was abruptly awoken a second time.

"Kid, get up." Slipknot ordered.

"Are we there yet?" Prowl mumbled as he rubbed at one of his optics.

"We're hoofing it from here." Slipknot stated, opening his cab and all but pushing Prowl out of him.

Prowl looked about him as Slipknot transformed. The street looked worse then the one that Slipknot lived on, and Prowl didn't even know that that was possible. The street was rather dark, it's tall and crumbling buildings blocking out the sunlight rather well. A mech, nearly gray, lay propped up against a cracked building, a cube with nothing but two credits glowing in the bottom of it. His one good optic was cracked open a bit, a gleaming yellow light glaring out.

Instinctively, Prowl pressed himself against the figure he felt the most comfortable with at this moment. His doorwings pressed into Slipknot's pede as said mech rolled his optics and pushed Prowl along.

"Hurry up." the rust colored mech ordered.

Prowl was on high alert as he was pushed up the streets. His optics darted back and forth as he tried to memorize the seemingly endless route of alley ways and back streets. He soon, though, was unable to retain any more information on their whereabouts and had to depend on Slipknot entirely.

Just as he was pushed into another dark, dirty, musty smelling alley, Slipknot grabbed him from behind.

"Now you listen here." he hissed. "You're to keep your trap shut and your optics open. Bots here ain't to be trusted. Don't talk to no one, you got that?"

Prowl was only able to nod a few times, a lump in his throat rendering him unable to speak. Slipknot grunted, and continued.

"Wheaver happens, don't be talking to no Enforcers either, you got me? I don't care what you have to do. Play dumb for all I care, but don't talk to no one."

Prowl nodded once more.

"One more thing." Slipknot stated, reaching into his own subspace. "Ya gotta wear this. Until I take it off."

Before Prowl could even process what Slipknot was whipping out of his subspace, a thick bandana had been tied around his optics. The sudden blindness rendered him even more helpless, and also dizzy as he was pushed forward. He stumbled about a bit, tripping over his own pedes as he was led along, until Slipknot became tired of his clumsiness and lifted him up.

He refrained from wrapping his servos around the other mech, not sure as to how he would take it. He lowered his helm, though, and tried not to focus on the nauseating speed in which Slipknot toted him about in. He strained his audios, and listened for some sign that he might be unmasked soon.

Slipknots heavy, uneven steps clodded noisily on the gravel crusted ground. Sometimes the faint sound of voices, not words, but just voices could be made out of slightly open windows. Somewhere in the distance, an Enforcer was giving chase, and a very adult song blasted out of one open window.

Slipknot came to a halt after turning, Prowl's doorwings picking up the emptiness behind him told him that he was most likely facing a building. Three hard raps on a door solidified his hypothesis. The door creaked and hissed before Slipknot started to move again.

The bouncing, limping way Slipknot was walking meant that they were probably going down a flight of stairs. Mumbled talking was heard in the near distance, and the shuffling of pedes told Prowl that he and his guardian were not the only bots there.

"Stand here, and remember what I said." Slipknot hissed into his audios as he quickly snapped the blindfold off of Prowl and set him down.

Prowl blinked a few times in the dim light, not at all used to the sudden attack of colors and movement. It took him a good klik or two to regain his balance.

"A sparkling, Slip?" a grizzled blue mech asked, hefting himself from his seat. "You brought a sparkling here? What the frag is wrong with you?"

"Mute it." Slipknot grumbled as he rolled his optics. "The kid ain't gonna say a word here, or elsewhere. Right, Prowl?"

Prowl shook his head, not entirely sure if that meant he was agreeing or not. It seemed to please the others, because they turned away from him.

"Still, he knows where were are." the blue mech stated. "He could rat out us."

"Had him blinded the whole way here. There ain't no way he could find his way back _home _without me."

A low murmur filled what could only be a basement. Slipknot jarred Prowl hard, gaining his attention.

"You can gimme the goods, now." he stated, hand outstretched.

Prowl looked at him a moment with a cocked helm. He then quickly went into his subspace as he remembered what Slipknot was wanting.

A green mech, electric lime, chortled gayly. "Oh, Slip! A subspace! On the youngling. I'm guessing he's got a alt. too?"

"Sure he does." Slipknot stated. "Go on, show 'em."

Afraid as to what would happen if he didn't, Prowl quickly folded himself down into his alt. mode. It hurt, his frame not flexible enough yet, T-cog not fully operational, and energon levels plummeting from just the energy needed to transform.

Prowl wished that he could fold in more, though, so much so that it created a black hole effect and he disappeared like a collapsing star. A loud laughter filled the dank basement at his puny, little alt and flimsy wheels and tiny flat-bed back.

"You're a hoot, 'Knot." the green mech stated, slapping the rust colored bot on the back.

"Aw, lay of the little fella." a sultry voice called out from a dark corner.

Prowl transformed back to root to catch a quick glimpse of something a soft, lavender purple. He saw it again, and made out a long, slender pede. A femme, slim in figure but still rather busty, swayed meaningfully as she neared. She knelt next to prowl and slid a digit so clean and silky that it felt soft under his chin. He looked into her golden optics, and inhaled the scent of incense that seemed to create a aromatic aura around her.

"He's got the looks." she stated.

"Now hang on just a breem." Slipknot started. "He ain't old enough to be no hooker just yet."

"You watch your tone." the femme growled back, her voice still rich and seductive no matter how she spoke. "I don't like the term 'hooker'."

"What do ya want? Prosti-bot? Pleasurebot? There's plenty to choose from." the green mech chortled.

"Shut up DeadHead." the purple femme snapped. She lowered herself a bit more to Prowl's level. "What do you think, hmm? You wanna get in my line of work when you're older?"

Prowl started to answer, only to remember the order to remain silent and found that he had no answer.

"You can talk to her." Slipknot scoffed.

"I-I." Prowl stammered. "Don't...know."

"Oh." she cooed. "He's so cute."

Prowl's doorwings trembled a bit, in fear and in a feeling he had never felt before. It could have only been called arousal, and scared him even more. He tried to shake off her grip, only to find it attached quite firmly.

"Don't be gettin' no ideas, now." Slipnknot warned. "You can have him when he's old enough. I'd be in enough trouble if somebot found out about his upgrades, let alone finding out that he's been making out."

The violet femme rolled her optics. "Sweetie, you don't have to be afraid of me. Name's Heliotrope, but you can call me Heli."

Prowl tried to speak again, but found that all that he could manage was a gasp as he tried to pull out of her grip. His frame was so very hot and that femme made him very uncomfortable.

"Slipknot's gonna train you all up, then you're all mine." Heli promised, her golden optics brighting a bit as she devoured the youngling with her optics. "Slip's a master at trainin' bots in my line, trained me when I was just in my adult frame. You listen good, you hear me?"

Prowl nodded and tried to pull away, a cold frantic feeling filling his spark. Her grip loosened for a mere second, and Prowl saw it as his only chance to bolt. He took off up the stairs, despite the shouts behind him and the sound of thundering pedes.

He ran as fast as he could, getting as far away from that femme as he could. He wove in and out of unfamiliar territory until he reached an open road. It was just was frightening and deserted as the first one he had seen after awakening, and made him panic once again. He ran harder, though he could feel his low energy levels melt away with every step.

Literally running in a blind panic, he failed to notice the looming figure stopping and turning as he neared. He smashed into him with a resounding metalic crash, and fell back onto his rear with a winded 'ooph'.

"Easy, there." a rather kind voice said above him. "Are you all right?"

Prowl looked up to see a black and white figure, such as himself, kneeling to help him up. His glossa froze at the sight of gold bars decorating his servos. An Enforcer.

"Did you hear me?" the Enforcer asked, giving Prowl a gentle shake to try and snap him out of his stupor. "I asked if you were all right."

Prowl tried to speak, only to find little bursts of air take place of his words, and he hung his helm in shame.

"Prowl!" a familiar voice came from behind him, causing his doorwings to flatten to his back, as they were all ready drooping. "There you are! I done been looking all over for you!"

"Is he yours?" the Enforcer asked, rising to his full height and taking Prowl's hand.

"Sure is." Slipknot answered in one of the most concerned voices Prowl had ever heard. That mech was one good actor. "I swear, I turned my back for only a breem. Turn around he he done good and gone!"

"He seemed to have been a bit spooked." the Enforcer stated, eyeing Slipknot a bit. He vented after a klik. "Forgive me, but how are you related? He's Praxian, and you most certainly are not."

"Adoption." Slipknot stated. "I got papers if ya don't believe me."

"No." the Enforcer said with a shake of his hand and helm. "Thank you for clearing that." he turned to Prowl. "Don't go wandering off now, all right? Not safe around here for little bots. And big bots."

Prowl nodded a bit, helm dipped low. The Enforcer pat his helm, and at that moment Prowl knew his calling. He looked up into the Enforcer's kind, aquamarine optics. The larger mech smiled before giving his hand over to Slipknots.

"Be good, now." he said before turning and walking away.

"Thanks again." Slipknot said, his voice thankful as he glared down at Prowl. "Come along, now. You and me got a little talk waiting on the way back home."

* * *

Author's Note- Next chapter! I feel bad for Prowl too. It's gonna get worse, though. Much worse. *devious grin*


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

"Dang, Prowler, you musta fallen pretty far to get so dinged up." Jazz stated as he and the Praxian hurried up the halls towards their classroom.

Classroom was a stretch, though. It was more of a play school, just one under a real grade. The teacher, having seen Prowl sitting for a few joors at a time, his work long since finished and nothing to do, had suggested that he was boosted to another grade. After asking him he had simply asked,

"Will Jazz be able to come?"

After hearing the answer, Prowl had decided to hang back. What was the point in going up a grade if his only friend was in the one he was currently in?

Prowl just shrugged at Jazz's remark. Technically, it wasn't a complete lie. He had fallen...once. The other dings and mesh bruises weren't all from the floor, more like a fist, but that didn't matter.

The door to their class slid open. The teacher within sighed.

"Nearly had to mark you as late." she stated as she motioned Jazz and Prowl towards their seats.

Prowl hung his helm, knowing the reason for their tardiness had been entirely his fault. Jazz had been waiting for him outside, insisting on going in with him.

"Now." the teacher called out. "Online your pads to the last page done, and we'll begin from their."

* * *

Usually, it was easy to tell what was wrong with a youngling, especially one just out of their sparkling frames. They had sparkling tendancies. Crying when hurt or upset, laughing when happy, energetic when healthy, sluggish when ill.

That's why she had taken this job, as a youngling education director. Not only was the work simple to teach, the younglings were so youthful that it was easy to tell what each individual bot needed. Also, she liked the way 'Miss Coral' sounded when spoken by a young bot. It was cute, especially if they had an impediment or accent.

That, though, was not the case with Prowl. Never had she seen such a youngling that hid things so well. While hard to miss the dents, dings, and bruises he had come in with a few orns ago, it was hard to tell if he was in any pain or not. She couldn't say they did because he wasn't playing, as he never did so to begin with. At times he would join in a game, but not unless Jazz pleaded for awhile.

He also speed through his work like a bot possessed, would hand it to her usually no more then ten breems later, and the sit back down. He would stare out the window for nearly two whole joors, never moving or squirming about unless his doorwing got cramped or Jazz needed assistance with his work.

He was a challenge, and one that Coral met head on. She soon found little ways to read him. She had educated one or two Praxians so far, a few vorns ago. Their doorwings were all ways dead giveaways as to what they were feeling.

A relaxed, resting position was usually slightly droopy but still controlled. An irritated or excited Praxian usually had wings up in intimidating or anticipated way. If they were feeling sick, tried, depressed or just upset the wings could be held from anywhere at 180 degree angles to completely down and flat against their back(it was always a bit cute while spark wrenching to see a youngling with flattened wings).

His wings were the most uncontrolled Coral had ever seen. When he was teased by the others for such appendages, the panels would sag back so far that he looked almost Polyhexian or Iaconian. They were rarely ever up in excitement or joy, always in a semi-Neutral, semi-depressed stated. At times, she had even caught him trying to move the panels about at his free will, only to have them slump involuntarily in defeat.

Well, now was another time to test out her praxian reading skills. On a normal day, Prowl was the first youngling to come to class. If Prowl was 'away' he would either not show or would be marked tardy.

Today his mark would be on time. Without so much as a 'how do you do?', Prowl slid into the back row and took his seat. His servos were crossed onto the double desk top, and his helm was pressed into them. Speaking of pressed, his doorwings could not go down or in any farther, lest they merge with his very protoform!

"Prowl?" Ms. Coral asked, setting aside her daily planner.

No answer. Not like him to remain silent after addressed. She rose, a bit alarmed at his attitude. She knelt down once beside him, and placed a hand in the middle of his back. He shifted to look up at her, looking a bit startled at having suddenly been disturbed.

His optics were dim and glassy. His white face was a bit paler then normal, where as his cheeks were reddened. Coral could feel a faint trembling in his doorwings, a sign and symptom of not only illness, but pain.

"Are you all right?" the education director asked gently, brushing the side of his helm with one of her digits.

He nodded slowly, his optics scrunching a bit as if the motion made his helm hurt. A tiny whimper, desperately being smothered and choked back, escaped his vocalizer and he buried his helm back into his servos.

Now, this would not do. Not only would it be hard for Prowl to get through the school orn, he could also spread whatever virus he had to the others. Entire epidemics had broken out from just one student, at times. Also, how was she supposed to teach the others if she had to watch a sick student his his guardian worked out of town?

Trying to figure out just what to do, she picked up him. He looked a bit startled and alarmed, but was too tired and weak to struggle or protest any. He sat limply in her servos, resting his helm on her shoulder with his blue optics shuttered to the light.

He cracked them open a bit as the door whooshed open.

"Heya, Miss-Prowler?" a voice that Prowl knew very well asked in surprise. "What's wrong with ya?"

Coral ignored the other black and white youngling (only to think how odd it was that both had a rather similar color scheme) to address the much taller mech besides the mechling.

The mech, Jazz's carrier, who went by the designation Synthesizer, quickly registered the situation.

"Is he ill?" Synthesizer asked, his colors of blue and green reflecting onto Prowl's own white and black.

"I think so." Coral said with a few bobs of her helm. "I'd contact his guardian, but he works...elsewhere. The sla-, bot," she corrected herself quickly. What kind of educator cursed in front of younglings? "Didn't even leave any kind of contact information."

"Nothing at all?' Synthesizer asked, giving Jazz's hand a quick squeeze to keep him from fiddling about so much.

"Nothing. Not even his own number." Coral stated. Synthesizer only looked in disbelief. "You think I'm lying?"

"Not at all." Synthesizer said quickly. "Just hard to believe that that kind of action would be allowed."

"I'm not the administrator." Coral said a bit sharper then she intended. "You want to take it up with someone, take it up with him. I'm just the teacher."

"Carrier?" Jazz asked, tugging on the blue and green mech's servo to gain his attention. "Prowler don't-"

"Doesn't." Coral couldn't help but correct.

"Yeah." Jazz nodded. "He doesn't have a place to go?"

"It seems that way." Synthesizer answered his creation.

"Can he come back wi' us?" Jazz suggested, his visor glinting in the light of the open window.

"With us?" Synthesizer repeated, as if the idea had never even crossed his processor. "I'm not sure, Jazz..."

Coral vented, as if that had been her last hope. "Well..." she started. "If he can't go back with you, then he'll have to stay here."

Synthesizer bit his bottom lip, trying to decide what to do. Of course he had heard plenty from Jazz about Prowl. How he looked, acted, talked, to name a few. Most of it had been good things, but both Synthesizer and his mate, DJ, had to admit that something was amiss with the youngling. Jazz had told him about he often disappeared from school for an orn or two, and would return with new bumps and bruises. Once, Jazz had even said Prowl could barely walk from 'running a lot'.

Also, who ever heard of a youngling who never wanted to play, worked well above his grade level, and crashed like an overworked adult? These were quite some difficult puzzle pieces, and it made it much harder as many pieces of the puzzle were missing.

"I..." Synthesizer vented. "I guess he could stay for the orn. I mean, it wouldn't hurt any."

"Really?" Jazz asked, it obvious that he was wide opticed and excited about the fact. "Prowler ain't never been over before!"

Coral gave up at that moment. It was easier to find a sitter for Prowl then it was to teach a Polyhexian proper speech.

"What are you so eager about?" Synthesizer chuckled. "You're fine. _You_ still have school."

"But Prowler hasn't been over before!" Jazz restated, now in an argumentative tone. "Don't ya think he'd be nervous and all, not knowin' ya?"

While a clever way to skip a day of education, Jazz did have a point. A quick look at the teacher, and a nod in return answered Synthesizer.

"Just this once."

"Yes." Jazz hissed, pulling back his fist in victory and not afraid to hide it.

Coral refrained from rolling her optics at the youngling, and decided just to hand over the one still curled up in her servos. Noticing that he was moving, Prowl started a bit to find that he was being handed over to another bot. One that he had only seen before, and knew by reputation only. No way in the pit was he going to allow that _mech_ to hold him. A femme, yes, but most certainly not a mech.

"It's all right." Coral stated, but set him down anyways. "Synthesizer and Jazz are going to take you to their place, all right?"

Prowl nodded, mumbling something that sounded a bit like a 'yes, ma'am', but not entirely. Synthesizer took his hand in his right and Jazz by his left. Being a big mech, too cool to hold his carriers hand, Jazz quickly wriggled his way free of the well meant grip. Prowl, on the other hand, held on for support.

"Climb on in." Synthesizer offered after they had left the education center and were at the street.

Jazz didn't hesitate to clamber on in, and Synthesizer wrapped the restraining harness around him. Nice and _tight_.

"I can-" Prowl started, but suddenly cut himself off. He had almost made a fatal mistake. One that would cost him a few more bruises and another lesson if Slipknot ever found out.

"What was that?" Synthesizer asked gently, waiting for Prowl to continue.

"Come on, Prowler!" Jazz encouraged, leaning forward despite the strength the harness had around him.

With a bit of difficulty and a good deal of hesitance, Prowl managed to heft himself up and into the middle seat, leaving the 'driver's seat empty. Jazz had taken the 'passenger's side.

"Sit back, please." Synthesizer said, trying to wrap his harness around Prowl.

"But-" Prowl started. "My wings."

"Oh." Synthesizer murmured. "Does it hurt to lay them against the seat."

"Well...no." Prowl admitted. "But won't it bother you? Slipknot doesn't like it when my doorwings are on his seat."

"Well, I'm not Slipknot, am I?" Synthesizer asked. Scanning a shaked helm, he continued. "You can sit back if you want. I need to get the safety harness around you."

Again, with more hesitance Synthesizer had ever seen in a youngling, Prowl slowly pressed his doorwings against the seat. Lightly, just barely brushing the soft padding at first, and then a bit heavier as he finally gave in and sat like a normal bot would.

With a click of the belt and a quick rev of his engine, Synthesizer as finally able to hit the road. It was a rather uneventful journey, although a bit noisy. Jazz had at first switched on the radio to some station that was a bit too loud for both Prowl and Synthesizer. After the stereo system had been cut off, Jazz had filled the silence with his own voice. While annoying after awhile, Synthesizer listened to get a bit more insight on the other youngling.

"Where did you go last week?" Jazz asked, wriggling a bit in his harness to try and loosen it a bit. It wasn't hurting him or anything, just wasn't giving him as much freedom as he would like.

"The Crystal City." Prowl answered, his voice a bit low and sluggish and murmured.

"Really?" Jazz asked in an awed voice. "Was it cool?"

"I suppose." Prowl answered, shifting his gaze outside.

"The Crystal City?" Synthesizer spoke up. "That's quite a ways from here."

"It's closer the Tyger Pax." Prowl answered, although he nodded slightly in agreement.

"You've been to Tyger Pax too?" Jazz asked. "Dang, you getta go all sorts of cool places!"

"You travel often?" Synthesizer asked.

"A bit." Prowl answered simply. Synthesizer waited for the typical youngling prattle of all the places he'd been, only to be met with silence.

"He's been ta Epsilon, and Tyger Pax, and the Crystal City, and...where was that other place?" Jazz asked, nudging Prowl a bit, who had seemed to wander off in his processor.

"Hmm?" he hummed. "Oh. Voc."

"Voc?"Ssynthesizer asked with a bit of distaste. "Not a very safe place."

"Better then Kaon." Prowl mumbled, rubbing his temple with two digits.

"You've been to Kaon?" the eldest mech asked, now alarmed.

"Once or twice." Prowl stated. "Didn't like it much. I'd have rather gone with him to Praxus, but he won't let me accompany him there."

Synthesizer only hummed in reply. He slowed down as he pulled into a quiet section of town, and pulled into a single, short drive way.

"We're here!" Jazz announced triumphantly as he unsnapped his safety harness and leapt out.

"Jazz." Synthesizer reprimanded after letting Prowl out and transforming. "What have I told you about getting out before _I _unstrap you?"

"Sorry." Jazz mumbled hanging his helm and shuffling his pede. "Ah won't do it 'gain."

After taking Prowl's hand to lead him inside, he couldn't help but notice the way he looked at both him and the other youngling. As if he were expecting something more, feeling bad for what he was expecting, and then surprise when it didn't happen. His doorwings had perked up a bit after his hand had been taken, but were now hanging limpy again as if they were made of rags.

"Just get all settled on the sofa, now." Synthesizer stated. After Prowl had seated himself, laying against it's back but not all curled up as most younglings would, Synthesizer continued. "Do you have a contact number? Anything I could use to reach your guardian?"

Prowl shook his helm. Synthesizer vented a bit in frustration, and noticed as Prowl shied away from him. A quick smile at the youngling did not seem to calm him any.

"Jazz, you stay with Prowl. Help him get comfortable. I'm gonna go see where I put the overheating meds and then call your sire." Synthesizer said.

Jazz nodded. "'Kay. Here, Prowler, why don' ya lay down? Hey, wanna watch somethin'?"

Synthesizer smirked a bit as he walked upstairs. Jazz had this all under control.

* * *

DJ, to say the least, was quite surprised to hear of their young 'guest', and what brought him to them. Having been asked to stop for a few things after his shifts, working as factory worker at a parts facility, he was now ready to return home.

It was usually the same way every time he came home, not that he would want anything different. He would pull into the driveway as the front door slid open, and would be tackled the moment he stood up straight by a little black and white whirlwind of energy.

Today, though, there was no little Jazz to greet him as he entered after a long day's work. There was no Synthesizer at the door with a kiss or a 'how has your day been'? Instead, it was sullenly silent as he walked up to the door, gravel crunching beneath his pedes.

"An'one home?" he called in playfully, his thick Polyhexian accent barely echoing as he poked his helm through the door.

"Shhh." Jazz shushed from the sofa, turning around a bit to beam at his sire. "Prowler's 'chargin'."

Synthesizer came from the kitchen area, looking a bit tired but not very much so. His thin and lithe form caught the light perfectly, his shimmering royal blue and sparkling green reflecting said light onto the floor in lighter shades of his colors.

"Rough day?" DJ asked, meeting Synthesizer halfway with a kiss and a well hidden grope.

"Not really." Synthesizer said, optics widening at felt grope and laying a soft slap on his mate's side. His voice lowered. "Not in front of the younglings."

"Aw, Jazz's seen this kinda stuff 'fore!" DJ argued, going in for another kiss only to have his ready lips halted by a single digit.

"Jazz may have." Synthesizer stated, making sure he showed just how much he disliked that fact." But I am quite sure Prowl has never so much as seen a kiss."

"No?" DJ asked, trying once more. "Then we should change tha'."

Synthesizer rolled his optics and moved out of his mates white and orange form, looking more like Jazz then Synthesizer did. DJ strode across the room and pat Jazz on the helm, lowering his voice as he took in the sight. Prowl was indeed in recharge, his helm having slipt onto Jazz's shoulder during some kind of holo-vid program, not that Jazz was complaining.

"How's yer day been?" DJ asked softly.

"Pretty good!" Jazz exclaimed, remembering just barely to keep his vocalizer in low. "Prowler's sick, though."

"Oh?" DJ humored, knowing how Jazz must simply be _offlining_ to tell.

"Yep." Jazz stated very seriously. "An' he didn't have no place ta go, so Carrier said he could come 'ere for the orn."

"How's he doing?" DJ asked, laying a hand on the Praxian's overheating forehelm.

Jazz shrugged. "Ah ain't no medic." he said in a still serious voice. "But Ah think he's still sick."

DJ couldn't refrain from a warm chuckle, patting Jazz on the helm again. Jazz giggled a bit, in a way only a youngling only could. DJ rose from his crouched position to go and raid the crisper, maybe steal a goodie before dinner.

* * *

Prowl had awakened soon after Jazz had left (read: been torn away with much force) to drink his evening cube. His optics were still glassy and glazed over, more so then they had been that morning. He declined a cube with a shake of his helm, unable to do more then simply lay on the arm of the sofa, propped up by a single pillow.

After a very quick dinner, for Jazz anyways, the two younglings were again on the sofa. DJ, after helping his mate clear up the empty cubes, went into the living room himself.

"Prowl." he started. "Do ya think yer guardian's back yet?"

Prowl vented a bit as a he shrugged a single shoulder. "Maybe. He didn't say when he'd be back, though."

DJ sighed. If he didn't give that mech a piece of his mind for not caring for the youngling himself or at least looking for a caretaker for the orn, then he was going to get the mech's number and then _use_ it for unimportant reasons just to drive him nuts!

"Ya think we can go for a li'l' drive an' see if 'e's back yet?" DJ suggested, his voice low and gentle, the way he spoke to Jazz when he was ill.

Prowl shrugged again. "I guess."

"Can Ah come?" Jazz asked. "Then Ah can say 'bye ta Prowler."

DJ chuckled a bit. "Sure."

It didn't take long to get both Prowl and Jazz into his smallish cab. He stopped at the end of the road, three options before him. Straight, left, or right.

"Yer gonna have ta give meh directions, now, 'kay?" DJ said aloud. "Ah don' knew ta way ta yer place."

He felt Prowl wriggle a bit in his restraining harness to look out the windshield and the window.

"Go right." Prowl said after only a klik of observation. "Then make a left towards Downtown."

"Ah hear ya." DJ replied before resuming speed once again.

* * *

"This ta place?" DJ asked, observing the very large and rather frightening place Prowl had directed him two.

The outside was completely brown and yellowed with age, destroyed with vorns worth of graffiti. It rose well up into the air, possible having eighty stories, or more.

Prowl nodded, his helm as low as his doorwings as he tried to remain upright. DJ took a firm grip of Jazz's hand and hefted Prowl up.

"I can-"

"This'll go quicker if Ah carry ya." DJ interrupted the Praxian youngling. "What floor are we headin' up ta?"

"Sixth. 37-B." Prowl answered sluggishly.

Taking an even tighter grip on his own creation's hand, DJ marched up towards the entrance of the complexes.

* * *

Prowl vented as he waited. DJ had set him down to knock on the door, but there had been no reply. He easily noticed the glances sent his way as DJ tried again. To Prowl's relief, a gruff voice cursed on the other side of the door before opening it.

"What?" the rusty orange mech demanded, throwing the door up manually. "Oh. I was wondering when you was gonna show."

"Would'a been easier wi' a contact number o' any kind." DJ replied cooly, his accent thicker yet in his distaste and anger towards this mech.

Slipknot grunted. "Well, as your here now, it looks to me as if you don't need it any more."

"An' wha' if somethin' happens in the future?" DJ dared.

"Nothing's gonna happen." Slipknot stated, grabbing hold of Prowl's hand and jerking him past the threshold. "Now get out."

"Ah wasn' even thinkin' of comin' in." DJ responded, taking hold of Jazz to leave.

"See ya', Prowler." Jazz called over his shoulder as he was led away.

Prowl was unable to answer as the door was slammed shut, blocking anything he had to say.

"Is Prowler gonna be okay?" Jazz asked after he had been strapped in and DJ had speed away from the complex.

"Ah sure hope so." DJ replied. "Ah think, though, that we should check in tomorrow, huh? 'Fore school?"

"Yeah!" Jazz agreed, bouncing a bit in anticipation.

DJ chuckled warmly to hide the dark thoughts that went through his processor, little red flags going up, warning him that something was wrong.

* * *

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Slipknot grumbled as he was roused from recharge. He wasn't late for work, yet, so it couldn't be his internal chronometer waking him.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Prowl." Slipknot called out, voice still heavy with recharge. "Go get the door."

No answer. Well, there was one answer.

_KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK_.

Grumbling obscurities to himself, Slipknot pushed himself from his recharge berth.

"Damn kid probably left for school all ready." he grumbled as he groggily keyed open the door. It slid open to reveal a mech, colored in a dark shade of blue and equally dark green. "What the frag do you want? It's too early to be selling scrap."

After the deep scowl from the 'salesmech', Slipknot caught sight of the youngling besides him all too late.

"I'm not selling anything." Synthesizer hissed. "I came to see if you needed someone to watch Prowl again."

"Prowl? He ain't here. Left early." Slipknot stated.

"I highly doubt that."

"Go to the school, see for yourself!" Slipknot ordered. A message popped up in his HUD. Ah,there was that message telling him to get moving. "Slag, I'm late."

Without so much as a word, Slipknot pushed past both Jazz and his carrier. Jazz could feel the hatred towards the rusty looking bot from his carrier, and gave the larger hand a squeeze.

"Come on." Synthesizer said, giving Jazz a gentle pull to get him moving.

"But, Slipknot said Prowler's at the center." Jazz protested orally, though he moved into the still open apartment willingly.

"I want to be sure." Synthesizer stated.

He tisked at the dirty home, shaking his helm at the dust and scum filming everything from the floor to the walls to the counters. He saved a message to himself to give Jazz a good scrubbing once this entire ordeal was finished, and send a nice care package consisting of cleaning supplies to the guardian.

"Wha's tha'?" Jazz asked, stopping just after the door had slid closed behind them.

"What do you-" Synthesizer stopped as he too heard it.

A strangled, choking little cough. Repetitive, and then stopping all together.

"Prowl?" Synthesizer called out, letting go of Jazz's hand and motioning for him to stay put. "Are you in here."

He opened the first of three doors, revealing a good sized berthroom. The berth, though, was unmade and stained. The floor was just as dirty as the others, and the light had taken too long to turn on and was a bit dim.

The second room was just as empty, and more of a closet. It was easy to tell that it was Prowl's. It was a bit cleaner, even though the berth was still unmade. The light never even turned on, being manual and on the other wall, but it was not needed.

"Prowl." Synthesizer nearly exclaimed after opening the third and final door.

Curled up in the corner of the wash rack, doorwings practically merging with his protoform, shivered the little Praxian. His optics were shuttered tight, his chevron poking through his fingers as he buried his face in his hands. He didn't start until Synthesis had placed a hand on his shoulder, and he had just about jumped out of his armor.

"It's okay." Synthesis said quickly, calming him only a bit.

"Wh-where's..." Prowl slurred, slumping against the wall once again. "Where's Slipknot?"

"He left for work." Synthesis stated, a barely controlled rage bubbling inside of him. Prowl could have been left here all alone! He had to get past that, though. For now, anyways. There were more important things that required his entire attention. "Are you all right? What are you doing in here?"

A tiny sniffle came from the much smaller bot, but Prowl seemed to push it aside. "I-I... I didn't feel good, and-and tried to come in here, but-"

He stopped abruptly, as if cutting himself off. Like he was trying to hide something. Synthesizer waited for a klik for him to continue, and took matters into his own hands when he couldn't stand the sight and sound of shivering metal and chattering denta.

"Carrier?" Jazz asked, following the noise into the wash rack. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Jazz, can you go into Prowl's room and get the warming blanket from his berth?" Synthesizer told more then asked as he rummaged under the sink for a wash cloth.

Jazz nodded and hurried away, only to return back a few kliks later, empty handed. Synthesizer, having wiped off Prowl's face and hands, despite the fact that he had tried to dray away, turned towards his creation.

"Uh..." Jazz drawled for a klik. "Ya might wanna see this."

"What is it?" Synthesis questioned, allowing himself to be led from the wash racks and into the hall.

Jazz waited until the door had slid closed, and even spoke in a lowered voice to save Prowl the embarrassment.

"Well... Prowler, 'e was kinda sick...in 'is room." Jazz stated, optics sorrowful and full of pity.

"That's all right." Synthesizer said, patting Jazz's shoulder. "I'll clean up."

He rose and expected Jazz to follow, or at least move. Instead, he chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled one of his pedes.

"What is it?" Synthesizer demanded, kneeling in front of Jazz to get on optic level.

"I dunno, tha's the problem." Jazz explained.

"Can you try and explain it to me?" Synthesizer asked.

"There's somt'in else in there... it's not from Prowler bein' sick, though. At least, Ah don' think it is."

"Jazz."

"There's- well- it kinda looks like a goo. It's silvery too." Jazz said, his face taut as he tried to explain what he saw.

Synthesizer rose. Jazz took a step back, sensing his carrier's alarm and supressed anger.

"Ah didn' touch it! Ah swear!"

"Keep an optic on Prowl." Synthesizer ordered, opening the wash rack door and giving Jazz a small push into the room.

Prowl lifted his helm a bit from the wall, only to let it fall back weakly after the door closed again.

* * *

:DJ, you need to get here. Now:

Stopping in mid-motion, DJ set aside his tool to answer his comm.

:Wha's wrong, Syn?:

:I stopped by to check on Prowl:

:Is 'e all righ'?:

:He's still pretty ill. He's started purging. Threw up all over his room:

:Ew. That all?:

DJ heard Synthesizer sigh through the comm, showing that he had been trying to speak but was having a hard time finding the proper words. :'Jay, there's transmission fluid smeared on the floor and the berth:

:From Prowl?: DJ asked, his white and teal frame radiating heat from the flash of anger that passed through him. His visor, teal to match his colors, flashed to match said anger.

:From the looks of things? Yes: Synthesizer stated, his own anger coming across quite strongly. :I'm not sure what to do, 'Jay. We can't just leave him here with that-that _brute_:

:Don't jump to any conclusions, now.: DJ started. :We need ta make sure tha' the mech's bad 'fore we start callin' 'im names:

:What do you suggest I do?: Synthesis asked, his voice showing just how lost he was. As a carrier, his spark went out to any youngling.

:First, check an' see if the fluid's come from Prowl: DJ explained. :Try an ask 'im, but don' make it seem like yer askin' 'im. Ah'm leavin' now:

:'Jay, you don't need to come. I can handle it: Synthesizer argued gently, the sparkbond connecting him to DJ, though, transmitting just the opposite.

:Uh-uh. Ah'm comin'. Ah'll be there soon, 'kay?:

:Okay: Synthesizer vented, cutting the link.

"Tha' aft." DJ grumbled as he headed up to his supervisor's office.

Making him take a day off of work. At least they weren't in bad need of those credits, even though every little bit helped.

* * *

Synthesizer knelt down next to Prowl, who was still huddled in the corner. Jazz was standing beside him, after he had entered the room.

"Prowl? Prowl, we need to talk."

"I didn't mean it." Prowl sniffed, hurting too much and just feeling so ill that he no longer cared about how to act. Large tears of coolant slipped down his face, even though he did not outright sob.

"Didn't mean it?" Sybthesizer pressed gently.

"I-I didn't feel good. I tried come in here, b-but-" Prowl broke of in a keen.

Synthesizer cooed over him a bit, stroking the tip of his chevron to try and comfort him. The Praxian ducked his helm, though, and curled away from him.

"I'm not upset about the mess, Prowl." Synthesizer stated, voice still gentle.

Prowl would not be consoled, though. He was completely convinced that he was in some form of trouble for having been sick in his room.

"Prowl, can I...can I check something?" Synthesizer asked slowly.

Prowl nodded, not at all sure what to expect. Maybe some form of punishment.

Punishment indeed. Jazz grew wide opticed, visor barely hiding it, as Synthesizer moved one of Prowl's pedes. The mechling screeched and tried to skitter away, doorwings flared out defensively. Synthesizer quickly scooted back, hands held up. He had seen all he needed to see.

Even with his cod piece on, Prowl had silvery smears of shimmering fluid on the white parts of his thighs. In the midsts of Prowl's near wild keening, sobbing uncontrollably as Synthesis scooped him up and hugged him to his chassis, a loud banging sounded on the door to the apartment.

"It's your sire, Jazz." Synthesis said firmly, although his anger was not directed at his creation.

Jazz hurried towards the door, venting in relief as he saw the visored figure of his sire. He reached for a hug, snuggling into the warm servos. DJ stroked his helm a bit, sensing his creation's fear and worry and not fully understanding what was going on.

"It'll be all right, Jazz." DJ promised, wiping away one of the tears that Jazz had let slip beneath his vizor in his confusion. "Where is your carrier?"

"'E's comin'." Jazz answered, staying close to his sire for comfort and some form of stability in the middle of the ruckus. "Wanted ta get Prowler a warmin' blanket."

"Except there's not a damned one in this place that I can use." Synthesizer stated, coming out with a shaking doorwinger curled into his neck. His sobs had stifled down, leaving him with a bad case of the heebie-jeebies.

"Ya can crank the heat if need be." DJ stated. "We jus' need ta leave."

"Hold on." Synthesizer said over his shoulder as he headed to the cupboards. "I just want to grab something. In case Prowl gets sick again."

Upon opening the cupboards, though, revealed that they were very bare. Bare to foodstuffs and containers, anyways. There were chuck full of frivolous items, adult holovids and toys not suitable for anyone to so much as look at. Synthesis slammed the cupboards shut before his own creation could get curious as to what was inside.

"Get a cube from the cooler." DJ ordered, getting it himself anyways. "Aw, gross."

Jazz's face puckered up at the greenish shade of the cube. It didn't pour out into the sink like a good cube was supposed to, but splattered and fell in glops like spoiled milk. DJ rinsed it out quick, if only to get rid of the smell. He looked into the fridge, just for curiosities sake.

There were only two more cubes like the one he had dumped, the size of them giving away their once contents of mid-grade. The only other cubes were that of large containers of high grade, sparkling blue in their freshness.

After handing it to his mate, DJ took Jazz's hand to lead him from the apartment. Prowl started as he saw the direction they were heading, out the door.

"Where are we going?" he asked in a semi-panicked tone.

"It'll be okay." Synthesizer promised. "We're gonna get you some help."

"I don't need help!" Prowl exclaimed as he tried to slip from his grip. "Slipknot will get upset if I'm not here!"

"Forget about him." Synthesizer ordered. "It'll be all right."

Prowl buried his face into Synthesizer's warm neck cables, and sniffed once as fear and worry overtook everything he was feeling.

* * *

Author's Note- Nothing really to say about tjis chapter except 'Sorry it took so long'! I have the next chapter ready, but want to finish the 6th before posting. Anyone like Jazz's creators? 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Author's Note- Okay, right now I am breaking a personal rule about making a AN at the top of a chapter, but here goes.

I want to thank EVERYONE who reviewed last chapter! I was totally overwhelmed with the amount of people actually reading AND reviewing! And, while you know who you are, here you are again!

Thank you to (In order of reviews) **Autobot Slipstream, IBrokeThe4thWall, Demigod Princessa Of The Sea,****Raphaelplusmikey, Daklog73, Golden Eagel 603, lunarpopcorn, Nikkie2010, Anodythe, kkcliffy, Fallen Angel 1243, Galem (guest), LunarNightDreamer**

Now, on with the story!

* * *

"Just hang in there." Synthesizer said, his voice sweet and gentle.

Prowl moaned softly, his optics shuttered against the light that blinded him and increased his processor ache a thousand fold. His vision was blurred when he did try to open his optics, and the world spun around him in a way that increased his nausea. Shuttering again did nothing for the dizziness, though, and the raging temperature that had been climbing every upward since the previous orn.

Sighing in relief, Prowl embarrassed the darkness that covered him like a warm recharge blanket.

"Prowl?" Synthesizer called out. "Prowl, you all right?"

"Wha's wrong, Syn?" DJ asked, speeding up just a bit to catch up to his mate. Each had one youngling in their cab, so as to not overwhelm one bot.

"Prowl's out." Synthesizer answered after sweeping a scanner through his cab. "Out cold."

"It'll be 'kay. 'E's prob'ly jus' low on 'charge an' energy." DJ comforted.

Synthesizer picked up the pace, just to be safe.

* * *

"'Jay, he's still not up yet."

"Chill, Syn. Give'em twenty breem, tops, 'fore ya start worrin'." DJ said, hugging his mates shoulders.

"I'll call his pediatrician while we wait, then." Synthesizer stated.

"Do ya know his doc?"

"No, that's why I'll start calling now." Synthesizer stated, going into the kitchen to call on a phone, used if a comm. went out or if the call didn't require private lines.

"Is 'e gonna be okay?" Jazz asked, having stood sullenly by the couch for Prowl to wake up.

"'E's gonna be fine." DJ said, pulling Jazz close as he crouched down. "Don' ya start actin' like yer carrier, now."

Jazz laughed a bit, and sat down on the sofa next to Prowl. DJ lifted Jazz up, making the youngling squeal, and plopped Jazz down in his own lap. Jazz snuggled into him, relishing the warmth and touch.

A soft moan turned both of their helms away. Prowl squirmed a bit, a small keen exiting his vocalizer. His optics flickered unstably and his shutters wouldn't open more than halfway.

"Prowl?" DJ asked, moving as Jazz slid from his lap.

Prowl shifted again, his optics piteously trying to online. His hand reached out to try and take grasp of something, as his optics were only picking up bits if anything.

The world felt as if he were falling, spinning, and flipping. The way it went in and out of focus didn't help any either. He felt something take a strong yet gentle grip on his hand, making it feel small by the way it engulfed it.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. His optics lit up, dimly, but evenly. His chassis heaved for air, s if he had been running at top speed for joors, or driving for a long distance at his age.

"Easy." DJ said, voice soft and close to a whisper.

Prowl tried to speak, only to emit a bit of static and give up. His helm sank back into soft cushions, the pounding in it radiating from the front to the back.

"Ya 'kay?" Jazz asked, optics wide in worry.

Prowl swallowed once, twice, but made no motion as to reply. His helm hurt so bad, his vision was starting to go out. His respirators felt as if they were being crushed, and his tank hurt worse than when he drank the energon Slipknot supplied him with.

"Whoa." DJ exclaimed, sitting Prowl forward and grabbing the waste bin Synthesizer had had enough insight to set there, and thrust it under Prowl just as a black and curdled liquid gurgled out of him.

"Sire?" Jazz asked, taking a step back as DJ set bin and youngling back down.

"Syn." DJ called. "Did ya get through ta a doc?"

"No." Synthesizer stated, coming towards the doorway. "I called Jazz's pediatrician and a few others. The only doctor he's ever gone to is one at the orphanage, and that was nearly a vorn ago."

"'Kay." DJ returned. "Got anymore calls ta make?"

"I was going to try a few-"

"Don't."

"What's wrong?"

"We're takin' Prowl ta the hospital is what's wrong." DJ returned.

Synthesizer nodded in agreement. Just as he went to step fully into the living room, Prowl spasmed sharply. He jerked so hard that he nearly threw himself onto the floor, and was saved just in time by DJ. A terrible, gargled, strained string of static burst from him and lasted for a good few kliks before going out. He slumped in DJ's servos, optics offlining fully and shuttering.

"Syn. ya got one more call ta make." DJ said, laying Prowl on the floor and forcing his chassis open.

Synthesizer grabbed Jazz and pulled him away before he could see Prowl's exposed spark. "What's wrong?"

"He jus' seized an' ain' brethin'." DJ answered, taking three fingers and massaging Prowl's irregularly pulsating spark, slowing down by the klik.

Synthesizer pulled Jazz into the kitchen, despite his loud protests and near screams. He pushed him into a chair, ordering him to stay put. He then hurried to the phone, and called for an emergency responder.

* * *

Jazz sat quietly, his helm on his carrier's lap. They had been here for joors. Sitting, waiting for someone to come out and tell them what they did to Prowl.

After he had been dragged into the kitchen and Carrier had sent out a call, multiple emergency responder vehicles had shown up, each a skilled EMT. He only saw bits and pieces, like Sire's mouth coming away from Prowl and something that looked like a nozzle and a squeazy bag take it's place. Then a gurney had come in, and Prowl strapped to it tightly. Two medics were with him now, one massaging his spark while the other squeezed the bag slowly and evenly.

Just as Prowl had been pushed from the house and into one of the ambulances, Jazz's hand had been taken by his Carrier and being told to go quickly. His voice was sharp, but Jazz knew that he wasn't being mean. He was worried and scared, if optics were anything to go by.

That had been so long ago. It was late now, both moons well in the sky and visible out a single window. It was very dark, but only a few stars were out. He was very tired, and his tanks were low.

"Carrier?" Jazz mumbled, sitting up and patting the green and blue servo.

"Hmm?" Synthesizer started a bit, having dozed off partially. "Wha-what's wrong, Jazz?"

"Ah'm...Ah'm kinda hungry." Jazz stated lowly, letting his helm rest on that warm servo.

"Primus." Synthesizer murmured as he checked his internal chronometer. "I didn't know it was so late. You're probably starving. You haven't eaten since this morning...I'm surprised you're not sick right now."

"Wha's wrong?" DJ asked, rousing himself. He had been in a light recharge, but not light enough to stat asleep.

"I forgot." Synthesizer muttered, reprimanding himself hard. "In everything, I forgot to check on Jazz."

"Syn-"

"I forgot to _feed_ our creation." Synthesizer continued, rising as soon as Jazz had slid from his lap.

DJ snorted. He then began to laugh, slightly at first and then outright. "Syn-"

"It's not funny." Synthesizer stormed, marching towards the door.

"Syn." DJ said a bit firmly, quickly rising and grabbing his mates servo. "I's all righ'. We're all underfueled an' undercharged. We all need some 'gon an' charge, 'kay? Ya ain't neglectful and ye ain't abusive. There's a li'l' cafe down the hall. Want meh ta grab us all somethin'?"

"That's where I'm heading now." Synthesizer stated, turning once more. "DJ. I need you to let me go so I can-"

His other words were muffled and cut off as DJ kissed him hard. Jazz snickered silently before letting out a school child like 'oooh!'

DJ cut it off with a snort of laughed. Synthesizer rolled his optics.

"Jus' chill, Syn, 'kay?" DJ said gently. "We'll get this all straightened out, 'kay?"

Synthesizer sighed and nodded, and finally got his servo back. He turned and left, the door to the waiting room closing behind him. DJ settled back down in his seat, and pulled Jazz close.

"Ya see? Tha's how ya treat yer mate." DJ stated, rubbing one of Jazz's servos gently but briskly and briefly.

"Wha'? Kissin' 'im ta mute 'em?" Jazz asked, his optics dancing with a bit of mischief.

DJ chuckled. "No. Least, not all ways. See how flustered Syn was gettin'?"

"Mmhm."

"Ya gotta calm 'em down 'fore they get all worked up, then ya get nowhere with 'em." DJ explained.

"Does Carrier do tha' to you?" Jazz asked.

"Sometimes." DJ nodded. "Jus' not as often."

"Is Carrier more uptight than you?"

"Yes, but Ah didn' say tha'."

Jazz giggled a bit, snuggling tiredly into his sire's chassis. He shuttered his optics and contented himself by simply listening to the strong, steady thrumming of the other's spark.

"Jazz?"

He started a bit, having dozed off. "Hmm?"

"I got you some energon." Synthesizer said, handing the youngling a medium sized cube of low grade.

"Thanks." he said, taking the cube and taking a long drought of it.

DJ took the one offered to him as Synthesizer settled down with his own. They were halfway through their little meal when the door opened to the near empty waiting room, and a med-bot of white and green stepped in.

DJ sat Jazz down and rose beside his mate.

"I am Torque, on of the medics who are monitoring Prowl. Are you his creators?" the medic asked, his boxy frame highlighting oddly in the light.

"No." DJ answered. "We...kinda took 'im."

"Took him?" Torque asked, alarmed.

"We think that he..." Synthesizer started to explain, lowering his voice suddenly. "Might be under abuse."

The medic only nodded, listening as things were explained. He nodded at just the right parts, and remained silent once the explanation had been given. Thinking that the quiet time had gone on long enough, Jazz spoke up from where he was seated.

"Is Prowler okay now? Ah wanna go see 'im."

The medic chuckled a bit. "Right. Now I must explain things."

"Is he doing all right?" Synthesizer asked, his hand seeking out his mate's.

"He's resting now." Torque replied.

"But is 'e all righ'?" DJ pressed.

The medic vented once. Not a good sign. "Were either of you are with Prowl...malfunction?"

"Malfunction?" Synthesizer repeated.

"He has a retarded processor, making him very liable to crash." Syringe replied, tapping his own helm one or twice in a rather demeaning way.

DJ's optics narrowed beneath his visor, lips pressed into a thin line. The medic's own optics widened as he noticed his poor choice in words.

"Not retarded as in the sense that he is stupid, mainly." the medic quickly tried to cover himself. "His processor is slow at picking up things with double meaning, say-sarcasm, and crashes when it cannot run the scenario through his logic processor or battle computer."

"So how's he stupid?" DJ dared. "Seems ta me tha' he's smarter then the average younglin'."

"In a ways, while seeming reta-slow in situations involving emotions or things like that." Torque stated.

Synthesizer squeezed his mate's a hand a bit, holding him back from starting an argument. While easy going, he could be quite passionate about certain things. Discrimination, racism, and treatment of others -especially youth- to name a few.

"How is he _now_? And what happened to begin with?" Synthesizer asked.

"He crashed." Torque answered simply.

"Nuh-uh." Jazz called out, shaking his helm.

The medic chuckled a bit and bent at his waist to look down on Jazz. He spoke in a sugary sweet tone that was more sarcastic than anything. "Yes, he did, little one."

"Nuh-uh." Jazz repeated. "He didn'. Ah've seen 'im crash before. He jus' goes down for a bit then wakes up kinda tired."

"This is a different type of crash." Torque replied before turning back to the adults. "While it started at his processor, this is a full systems crash. Every crash one has leaves a tiny bit of bad code in the processor. If too much build up, without medical attention, it causes a block. Right now, his processor is severely blocked and is causing his systems to crash."

Synthesizer nodded a bit, understanding and worry clear in his optics. "Can we see him?"

"He's in the ICU right now. A nurse will show you where he is in a minute. There was something I had to discuss with you, but as you aren't his creators and he's now a ward of the state, I'll have to take it up with a Social Services administrate or the like."

"What?" DJ asked, allowing enough spitfire and venom to drip into one word that it made Jazz even a bit afraid of him.

The medic cleared his throat, contemplating about if he should speak. DJ was much bigger then he was, and much stronger. While he could call security, the mech could tear him a new one before a guard even got there.

"He needs surgery." Torque finally answered, a very wise choice in his mind. "To remove the block."

"Would it prevent him from crashing again?" Synthesizer couldn't help but wonder.

"No. It would remove the bad code and return him to 'normal', whatever his may be." Torque answered. "If there are no more questions, I have to meet with that administrator now. Here is the nurse to show you the way."

With that, the medic pushed past a lavender femme and meandered down the hall and disappeared around a bend.

"Just follow me, please." the femme asked pleasantly, putting her hand on the door sensor to keep it from automatically closing again.

* * *

DJ vented softly as he lay leaned back in a cushioned chair, most likely set there for a case just like this. A bot worried for another and not leaving the sick or injured's side. He placed one hand over the black and white sleeping figure sprawled out on his looked over at Synthesis, who sat in a chair similar to his but closer to Prowl.

Never had he seen so many _machines_. So many wires. All connected to that one little bot, even a smaller than Jazz. A spark monitor beeped steadily, a red wire spiraled from it and stretched to a clip on one of his too small digits. Another one was connected to an elastic band that wrapped around his helm and slipped behind his chevron. Another was connected directly to his spark, sending out tiny shocks through the partially closed plates, opened just slightly with glittery green clamps.

Another thing connected to him was a venting mask, attached to a high content of air to pump into him. He had obviously been upgraded from a full breathing tube, as it was simply a mask and tubes in his olfactories. The last thing in him was an I.V drip, rehydrating his frail frame.

His chassis rose and fell with his vents, each slow and loud due to the mask. The whoosh in and hissed out like an old machine hat ran off of steam. His digits would twitch from time to time, curling in slightly and then relaxing back out.

DJ stroked Jazz's servo, thanking Primus for the fact that it wasn't his Jazz in that bed right now, but also pleading for the other small one. That he would wake up. That he would get well. That all this mess could be straightened out.

For the thousandth time that night, he checked his chronometer. Well, it wasn't night any more. At least Jazz would get some sleep. Glancing at Synthesizer, he watched his mate's lithe hand slowly stroke Prowl's knee, one of the only places not hooked up to something.

Shuttering his optics and offlining his visor, DJ hoped for maybe a light recharge. A good nights rest was far gone. He sat up a bit, optics re-lighting, as a soft moan reached his audios.

It was so quiet, just barely audible as it was drowned out by the monitors. Synthesizer was rising, so he wasn't the only one who had heard it. Prowl's hand curled up into a small fist, and then relaxed again.

Slowly, painfully slow, his optics unshuttered.

"Prowl?" Synthesizer asked gently. "You up?"

Slumping minuscule into the berth, he gave a little nod. Synthesizer leaned over a bit, letting his digits stroke Prowl's helm. That's what he needed right now. Touch, comfort, knowing that someone was there for him. He looked a bit relaxed, his optics closed again but his spark rate too high for him to be sleeping, and leaning into the touch a bit.

"You okay?" Synthesizer asked.

"Tired." Prowl half-whispered half-whimpered.

"I know." Synthesizer sympathized, making sure not to knock the rubber band around the tiny helm knocked off. The medics had thought of using little suction cups, the name of them slipped his mind now, but if he started to seize badly enough again they would just come back off. "Try to go back to sleep."

Prowl gave a barely there nod, but never shuttered his optics. The peered at Synthesizer, taking him in. As if memorizing him. The looked longing, wishing for _something_.

"It's all right." Synthesizer promised, noticing the way Prowl blinked, as if his shutters were made of lead. "Just go to sleep."

Slowly, almost as if losing consciousness, his optics shuttered. He was still awake, if the spark monitor was anything to go by, but in a state of rest and contentment.

Tired himself, DJ slipped into recharge, joining Jazz.

* * *

Synthesizer vented a bit as he stopped Jazz from kicking his pedes. Jazz slumped a bit in boredom, slouching onto the table and continuing with some kind of picture he was doodling. Synthesizer couldn't yell at him, though. They had been sitting here for while.

It was a quiet place outside of the hospital. A small crystal garden with a few table and seats for medics or bots in need of a break. Right now, Syn needed a break from this break area.

They were meeting with a Social Services administrator, who seemed to like to prattle, ramble, and ask the same question in different ways.

Another question. How were they sure that Prowl wasn't being treated 'fairly'. Synthesizer turned to DJ, hoping for a bit of an assist with this question. The visored mech, though, conveniently sipped at his energon and leaned to help Jazz with his picture.

_Aft_. Synthesizer grumbled within, taking a moment to formulate his words without them being twisted or taken the wrong way...again.

"Well, you see-" he started, only to be cut off abruptly.

A sharp yet calm voice was calling over an outer comm/paging system. : Will Security please report to the ICU? We have a breach in the ICU. Repeat, Security to ICU :

The Social Services bot looked at DJ and Syn a bit oddly as they wordless got up and hurried away at the same time. Jazz looked up from his picture and contemplated if he should follow them or not. He turned to the Services bot.

"So..." the other started. "Your creators treating you well."

"Wait up!" Jazz called out, leaving his picture behind and running after his creators, sliding his hand into his carrier's as he was closer.

"Wha's goin' on?" DJ asked as Security directors pushed by.

"Some bot and a youngin'." one finally answered, hurrying off to join the others.

"You don't think..." Synthesizer started.

"Wha' else is there?" DJ asked. "Ya stay outta they, 'kay? Ah'm gonna see if they need some help."

Synthesizer nodded, taking a firmer grip on Jazz's hand. He carefully took Jazz to some out-of-way place and pulled him onto his lap, hugging him close and thanking his lucky stars that it wasn't _his_ Jazz so sick or hurt. His Jazz was safe, wrapped in his servos.

* * *

"That's _my_ fraggin' youngling!"

"Prowl is a ward of the state." the Security Officer, dark blue in color, stated.

Slipknot growled, trying his hardest to fight the stasis cuffs that basically paralyzed his servos and made them feel in pins and needles. He growled again as a familiar bot came into view.

"You! _You_ took him! I'm being arrested while that mech _stole_ my youngling!" Slipknot shouted, twisting in his binds.

"Prowl is being watched by them for the time being." the Security mech stated, pushing Slipknot to start moving.

"You aft-port!" Slipknot hissed spitting in DJ's direction.

"Righ' back at ya." DJ said back, his own voice dripping with venom.

He refrained from spitting back, though, and quickly wiped at his servo to get rid of the gross, wet feeling. He watched a second until he felt Slipknot had been carted away before turning to go calm Prowl down. He stopped as he looked into the empty berth.

"Where is 'e?" he asked, noting only now that the breathing mask hissed loudly from its fallen position, the I.V drip leaked into a puddle, and the spark monitor blared loudly as it no longer felt any more spark.

"Under the berth." a minty green femme, a nurse, answered sharply as she crouched. "Come on."

DJ went over and went to his hands and knees. He could barely see anything under that bed, it was dark as night. Two little optics, though, full of panic and fear, cut the darkness as he curled in on himself.

"Prowl?" DJ called. "Ya gotta come outta there, 'kay?"

The optics were swung back and forth, shaking his helm. DJ flinched at the choke and cough that never seemed to leave, the breathy yet breathless cough due to the fact that Prowl could barely breathe. His processor, all ready strained and crashing and now having gone through a shock. His processor, that was barely keeping his spark beating, was not letting his ventilation shafts do their job.

"Come on, now, Prowler." DJ called, using Jazz's nickname in an attempt to soothe the youngling. "It'll be okay. Slip's long gone an' ain' comin' back."

Prowl shook his helm again, his optic's light cutting out as he buried his face in his knees. His coughs had slowed now, becoming less and less the longer he went without the assisted breathing.

"This is taking too long." a medic grumbled, reaching to pull DJ away and snatch Prowl out himself.

"Hang on." DJ slapped the medic's hand away, turning back to Prowl. "Hey, Ah promise, Slip ain't gonna come an' hurt ya no more. We're gonna help ya, see? Hey...have Ah ever lied to ya?"

DJ would have chuckled the way Prowl looked at him, if he hadn't been just barely holding on at the time. He slowly shook his helm. Technically speaking, DJ _had_ never lied to him before.

"So, ya can trust meh, righ'?" DJ asked, trying to speak quickly and calmly at the same time.

A slow nod.

"So, can ya come ta meh?" DJ reached under a bit as far as he servo would reach. It was too far, though, to grab onto Prowl. The youngling would have to do the rest himself, or be dragged out by an angry medic.

"Get out of-" said medic started.

"Easy." DJ said, but not to the medic. He quickly yet carefully withdrew his servo, letting Prowl clutch to his chassis.

"You can comfort him later." the medic stated, both he and a nurse taking Prowl away and getting him back onto a berth.

The first thing roughly attached was the spark monitor clip that attached to his digit. DJ suppressed a shudder at just how _fast_ it was. Beat after beat, nearly combining. Spiking and falling, plummeting and then zooming up once again.

The wind-like noises that were sprayed from the venting mask stopped as it was shoved onto Prowl's face.

"Calm down. Take deep vents." one nurse ordered, another coming by his side and pushing DJ more and more from the room.

"Get it off." the medic said sharply, making DJ both thankful he couldn't and wish that he could see what was going on.

A harsh cough and a splatter made him look away and shudder. Maybe he didn't want to see. He couldn't handle that. Not the purging, just the fact that it was a _youngling_ who had to go through all of that.

Deciding it best to get out of the way, DJ went to look for his mate and his own youngling to update them...and give Jazz a hug.

* * *

He had been so very tired. Tired and lonely. He didn't mind the last part, though, the others had promised to come back once they were all done talking to the new bot. The Social Services bot or whatnot. He kinda wished, though, that Jazz could have been with him.

Jazz always made him feel better. The doctors had told him that he needed a surgery on his processor to help fix him, but they couldn't until he had gained some strength. Jazz always made him feel stronger.

One time, when he had been too tired to play with the few action toys Jazz brought with him, Jazz had taken out another activity. Some wax cylinders and a piece of white cardboard. The two of them had drawn some kind of odd picture until Prowl had tired out too much, and then Jazz finished it and presented it to him when he woke up.

He was still alone, but even just thinking about Jazz made him less lonely. Now that one problem was gone, maybe now he could focus on the other and rest.

Just as he had started to fall into recharge, the door had slid open. He didn't bother to open his optics, too tired and so close to sleep that it almost hurt. The footsteps, though, were both unfamiliar and familiar all at once. They were heavy, taking light and bouncy Jazz right out. They were even, which took out DJ who could go from walking to skipping like Jazz at a moments notice. It didn't sound like Synthesizer, who was more controled then those footsteps.

Deciding that it might be a nurse coming in to change the I.V. fluids, Prowl firmly decided to embrace sleep. Sleep was the farthest thing from him the moment that bot spoke.

"There you are." it dripped with venom.

Panic and fear. Dead panic and cold fear were the only thing on his mind and clamping his spark. It was odd how it felt like his spark stopped at that very moment, even though the spark monitor sky-rocketed.

"Thought you could get away now, could ya?" he growled, reaching forward to snag the youngling.

Throat too constricted with panic to speak, Prowl flinched away from the touch. Slipknot growled audibly, and grabbed Prowl by his doorwings. The youngling squeaked in surprise and pain as the sensitive sensors in his doorwings were cut with a single, sharp digit that dug and grabbed.

"L-let me go." Prowl pleaded, kicking his pedes in a pitiful protest. They resounded off of Slipknot's armor and made him more irritated than before.

"Thought you could get help,huh? Help from what? I treated you good, ya hear me?" Slipknot growled, easily popping out the I.V and snapping the elastic band around Prowl's helm. "I never did this to ya,that's for sure."

Prowl swung his helm back and forth as Slipknot reached for the breathing mask. He could care less for the other things, now dripping and leaking on the floor, but he _knew_ that he needed that mask. It had come off once before and he had gone into a frenzy, unable to breathe.

He felt the same way now as the breathing mask was torn from his face, the rubber band snapping and smacking him harshly. His world became hazy in a matter of kliks. Nothing made sense, everything was so blurred!

Someone was shouting-no- screaming. There was a rush of colors, and something very hard smashing into him. Or was it the other way around? Somehow, he managed to realize he was on the floor. One thing went through his processor.

_Get away. Get away. Get away!_

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by darkness. If it was dark, why was he semi-aware of everything? Hands grabbed out to him.

_Get away!_

Suddenly, a voice snapped him from his panicked daze.

"Prowl?" it called. "Ya gotta come outta there, 'kay?"

* * *

Author's Note...again- One thing all of you reviews had in common was an utmost hate and desire to rearrange Slipknot. A few I need to address, though. I thank all of you, though, for your support!

Golden Eagle 603- Yes, Prowl was raped. Just another thing against the large pile of things Slipknot has done. Prepare to through the book at him! *grabs up entire encyclopedia sets, the dictionary, and MY MATH BOOK*

lunarpopcorn- While I answered you via PM, I think this should be answered here as well. DJ is white and teal (think: Jazz) I am so sorry for the mix-up about the orange! Also, I feel terrible that you feel gutted! Can I help you get your guts back? ;)

kkcliffy- While an American, I wasn' (totally) aware of those laws. (I knew them but thought they were more common sense then actual law...pretty stupid of me, huh?) Believe me, the teachers and administrators will (now) get in trouble, but maybe not losing their jobs as they were not the 'official' caretakers. And don't worry about the rant! I love 'em! :P

IBrokeThe4thWall- Yes, don't worry, that is the last chapter Prowl will be living with Slip, but (as this chapter shows) it is far from the last confrontation! Also...I would love to see you use your username powers to slag the...slag outta Slipknot.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Waiting. One word, simple. Two syllables, so much meaning. For youth filled with life to the brim, to wait is worse than purgatory. Time stretched out endlessly as the ever expanding universe. To an adult, waiting becomes easier. They learn to relax before they must come to whatever activity waiting brought them to.

Waiting in times of joy and anticipation, while difficult at times, was _easy _compared to waiting in times of fear and worry.

Synthesizer vented softly as he rested his helm against the wall. Four joors had passed without so much as a peep or squeak. Nothing passed on from a doctor to a nurse to them. The silence was eating at Synthesizer. The last DJ had told him was that Prowl's systems had gone haywire and he was taken into the theatre for emergency surgery. Synthesizer stared at the barred doors. He just hoped that this was one of those times where no news meant good news.

Jazz vented as his carrier vented, snuggling closer into his warm, chassis' armor. He checked the waiting room chronometer from his half-dimmed visor. Four joors? Might as well be four orns. His sire had come back and told him that Prowl was bad again, and then, to top it all off, that nasty Slipknot was back! Jazz's fists curled instinctually and he shuddered involuntarily as he drew closer still to his carrier at just the mere thought of that scary mech.

Synthesizer patted his youngling's back, thoughts very much similar to Jazz's as he sought DJ's hand. DJ obliged and gave him a reassuring squeeze as Synthesizer leaned into his side.

"Ah'm sure," DJ cleared his vocalizer when his voice came out soft and scratchy, "Ah'm sure everythin'll be fine." he said aloud, breaking the tense silence that had hung over them like an old, wet rag for far too long.

As if speaking had been the magic cue, the door to the waiting room slid open to reveal a tired doctor. The doctor looked around until his optics came to rest on the small, huddled family that was watching him with big, worried optics. He headed towards them. "Are you currently appointed as Prowl's interim family unit?" He gave no name and spoke hurriedly, looking at straight at DJ, who nodded curtly in conformation.

"Prowl has suffered another critical crash. We couldn't wait for him to recover and he was taken to surgery." the medic, sporting a blue, white, and yellow sleek paintjob, explained with no overt emotion in his voice.

DJ nodded. They already knew this, what they wanted to know now was how Prowl was doing. At least it appeared as if he made it through the surgery. "Is he back, restin'?" DJ asked as he indicated the doors the medic had come through.

The medic shook his helm. "Prowl is _still_ in surgery. I was his surgeon for the first round, and was replaced by a fresh doctor – so to speak. His processor was terribly fragged, and it is taking quite a bit to patch and defrag it. There also appears to be a critical error in his com…" He cut himself off abruptly as his optics fell on Jazz, still snuggled in Synthesizer's arms, but staring at him with a bright visor, curiosity positively radiating from his small frame like an over bright nova. The doctor quickly turned is optics back to DJ. "Uhm, sorry but is it possible to talk with you in private, for a moment?"

"Is he nearly finished?" Synthesizer interrupted before DJ had time to answer. He couldn't help asking, placing a hand on Jazz's shoulder securely, drawing the curious youngling's attention. It wasn't even his own creation and Synthesizer couldn't stop this helpless and protective feeling boiling up inside of him.

"He should be in recovery in a joor." the medic stated. "Now, if I may please have a word in pri…" His pager beeped and he instantly grabbed at it. Cursing under his breath, he spun around and ran through the doors, leaving the small concerned family alone in the large waiting room.

Synthesizer shifted Jazz into a more comfortable position as he turned concerned optics onto DJ. DJ forced a smile.

"See?" DJ stated, taking his mate's hand again. "Ah told ya, everythin'll be fine." He said as he settled into for another long wait, praying that Primus would watch over the young black and white Praxian.

* * *

Any nanosec now._Any klik_. Any breem now._Take your time_. Just..._wake up_?

Synthesizer let his hand slide into Prowl's, closing around the youngling's instinctually and protectively, despite the fact that there was no returning grip.

Prowl had come from surgery no more than two joors ago. The doctors had warned them that it might take a while for the anaesthetics to wear off and thus Prowl might take longer to wake up, even more so considering the delicate surgery they had to perform.

Synthesizer looked over the small, slumbering frame and felt his spark clench. Prowl had no helm-armor protecting his processor, only a thin, gray cranium cap kept his processor safe and kept it from being completely exposed.

Synthesizer froze as Prowl's hand twitched within his grip and he shifted slightly. Synthesizer staid stock-still, afraid that he might be too loud, or moved about too much, and that it would cause Prowl to go back into whatever odd sleep he was in.

Slowly, two blue optics, much too bright to be normal, blinked hazily. Prowl felt so tired as he shuttered his optics again. He hadn't known it was even possible to feel like this. He felt like he had driven for three orns straight without rest or fuel yet at the same time he felt far away, as if his processor and frame wasn't connected. Just _how _he had gotten so tired? What had happened? Something to his right beeped, he tried to move his helm to see what it was, but once again his frame refused to do his bidding. The beeping became faster and faster. The more he heard the accelerating staccato, the more he panic. What was that? Why did it do that? Where was he? Why couldn't he move?

Something, or rather some_one,_hushed him, the soothing voice washing over him and calming him to his very core. He tried hard to focus on that voice, and slowly the hazy room began to take shape. The voice became a focused being in the lanky, shimmering form of Jazz's carrier.

"Hey, it's okay." Synthesizer continued as Prowl's optics cleared of their haze. "You went into surgery, okay? How...how are you feeling?"

Prowl faintly mumbled, blinking slowly as his optics threatened to blur out again. Synthesizer continued stroking Prowl's helm as he waited patiently for the youngling to speak.

"Tired." Came the tiny, frail voice after the fourth attempt.

Synthesizer smiled down at the youngling. "I know." Synthesizer soothed, stroking the youngling's cheek. "You can go to recharge in just a klik, I promise. I don't have a lot of time to talk, though. Just listen and I'll make it quick."

Prowl nodded numbly, straining to not only listen, but to understand what was being said.

"The doctors have to put you into a stasis, okay? It's just a deep sleep that'll help you heal." Synthesizer explained gently, continuing those smooth, even motions on Prowl's cheek.

Prowl gave a tiny nod, relief filling as he was able to once again control his frame, but at the same time wondering what Synthesizer's words meant and if he was required to answer orally. His optic covers were so heavy. He just wanted to...

"Hang on. I'm sorry. I promise, you can recharge in just a klik." Synthesizer repeated, using a voice everyone with a spark had – the one reserved for very sick youngling and dying puppies. "You'll be in stasis for eight orns, then we gotta go to court."

Prowl looked at him curiously. His mind tried to compute the meaning of those words, but everything was so fuzzy? And court? Did he do something wrong?

Something on Prowl's face must have showed Synthesizer his confusion. He smiled warmly and started to speak, but stopped when he heard the medic tell him that time was up and they needed to place Prowl in stasis.

"It'll be okay. It'll make everything better, all right?" Synthesizer said quickly as the medic neared. "Now, you gotta go to sleep." Synthesizer stopped stroking and removed his hands to make way for the medic. As soon as those hands had left Prowl whimpered. They had kept him grounded, comforted, now all he saw was the cold look of the medic as he came towards him.

The medic leaned forward, and Prowl, despite the amount of tubes and wires and pain he was in, managed to bristle as his mind screamed at him to get away. Not knowing what the adult was doing, he instinctually flinched away and shuttered his optics as a small whine escaped his vocalizer.

Synthesizer grimaced as he watched the machine once again started beating a fast staccato beat and quickly stepped closer to Prowl. Without even a second thought, he lowered he bent over Prowl and warm lips ghosted over the youngling's cheek.

Prowl peeked out once the warmth near his helm vanished, confused at the odd gesture, but saw that Synthesizer was again standing straight, hurt and pity in his optics as he watched Prowl.

"His processor will be exposed for a nonosec. You may wish to look away." Prowl heard the medic state from somewhere close to him, but he kept his focus on Synthesizer's calming presence.

Without another word or any more warning, the doctor carefully removed the cranium cap. Prowl's processor was gray with bits of red and blue and green wires going in and out of different chips and motherboards. There was one place that was charred slightly, a darker gray and even black in a certain area. Synthesizer found himself having to look down and swallow in an attempt to squelch the nausea rising up.

He was not squeamish by medical procedures, but a youngling with his processor exposed... That was something he couldn't handle, not as a carrier, anyways. All he could picture was his Jazz in Prowl's spot, a sickeningly easy task as the youngling's colors were so much alike.

"Just a quick pinch." the medic promised, giving a certain wire a squeeze with the tips of his digits.

Prowl gave a tiny jerk, his processor feeling cold and just too exposed. The pinch wasn't painful, just unexpected and odd. Thankfully, it didn't last long and Prowl vented out as stasis overtook him.

* * *

Synthesizer vented slowly after Prowl's frame tensed sharply and then relaxed. The medic had replaced the cranium cap and had started to adjust the monitor now that Prowl's spark rate was falling in his relaxed state.

"It's a pity, really." the medic mused aloud, lowering the volume on a processor activity monitoring device.

"What is?" Synthesizer asked as he lifted his wary optics to the medic, not really caring for conversation, but humoring the medic anyway. What he wanted was a warm cube, his own living room, his mate and creation close by, and this nightmare to be over.

"He really should be in an induced stasis for longer than eight orns, and he most definitely should _not _be dragged to a court trial nine orns into recovery." the medic stated, anger clear in his voice that the laws had not yet been adapted to consider medical conditions as severe as these. Yet the Cybertronian laws stated that no mech could be held awaiting trial longer than ten orns without the victim appearing in court to state their accusation against the accused.

"What other choice is there?" Synthesizer replied softly, his optics dimming slightly at the thought of the trial and the cross-examination they had to face within the next orn or two. "It's already travelled up to the Magnus, because of all the new sparkling and youngling protection laws in place, not even to mention the orns allotted thanks to the fair-charge agreement. It can't really be put on hold-"

"Nor can recovery be put aside for a 'better time'." the medic interrupted bluntly, his turquoise shade reflecting a red, blinking light.

Synthesizer vented, shoulders rising and falling. "There's nothing else we can do. Maybe the laws will be changed to accommodate for victims that have been injured to the extent that Prowl has been. But that is up to the Magnus and new Prime."

The medic was silent for a moment before clearing his throat and turning his back to the green and blue mech. "He'll be in stasis for eight orns." he said bluntly. "He's not going to be aware of anything or hear anything. No one would blame you if you just went home for those few orns and came back when it was time to take him to _court_." he spat the last word as if the mere mention of it left a vile taste in his mouth.

As terrible as that option sounded, there really was no other option to consider. They had to prepare for the trial, get permission for Jazz and Prowl to be let off of school – thank Primus for summer break – talk some more with the Social Services, Enforcers, and lawyers and so much more. Synthesizer took one last look at Prowl and with a nod, he turned to leave. What else could he do?

(/line)

_What's going on? _It had been so warm and comfortable only a klik ago. He felt both rested, restless, and tired all at once as consciousness slowly returned to him. It felt slow, gradual, like the act of waking was slowly bubbling up in him. Well, he just wanted to pop it and go right back to sleep.

"No."

"I know." Synthesizer smiled sadly as the groggy Praxian started to wake. "How you feeling?"

Prowl unshuttered and shuttered his optics slowly, not fully lucid enough to make sense of the words spoken or his surroundings. He was slightly aware of a minty colored nurse beside him, giving him an injection of something. Or at least that's what he hoped the pinch was.

Synthesizer flinched as that was now the third shot Prowl had received in five breems. "Isn't that a bit much?" he questioned warily, eyeing four similar needles on the table closest to the femme.

The nurse looked at him with optic ridges raised and a dull expression in her optics as if to say 'are you serious?'. "Sir, he should still be in a medical stasis. These are just to keep him from being _completely _in pain for a few joor."

"Only a few?" Synthesizer asked with sinking spark. The trial today was bound to go on for more than a few joors.

"You'll have to administer some to him once these wear off." the nurse explained, motioning to the needles.

"How much?" Synthesizer asked, biting his bottom lip. _H e_was going to have to give Prowl the shots?

"As many as he needs. Don't be afraid of overdosing. His frame'll go through them so fast that they won't work long." the nurse stated briskly. "There will be a medic there, though, if you need assistance."

"From the hospital?" Synthesizer was beginning to feel weird for asking so many questions, but he needed to know what to do.

The nurse shook her helm as she sat the berth up and began unhooking monitors and drips. "He's the Prime's medic. He's more for the trial, as far as I know, but he's a doctor first."

Synthesizer nodded. "Prowl's going to be needed to speak at times..."

"Not today." the femme stated firmly. "Right now, his frame's just fighting to stay awake."

Awake was an understatement. He seemed only half-lucid, and he was only half-aware as he was lifted from the berth. It hurt, but not in the sense that he was sore. His processor pounded in one of the worst headaches he'd ever had, and he was so tired all he wanted to do was drop offline. He didn't care where, just now.

He was slightly aware of movement, was it him? He was being carried down the long halls, which made much more sense than the walls moving. He was suddenly overwhelmed with light and fresh air, a great contrast to the bleach and medicine of the sterile hospital. He must have flinched or showed some outward discomfort, as a sudden yet gentle stroking on his doorwings lulled him more towards that sleep he wanted so badly.

Another voice pierced the air. Distorted as all the other noises, but unmistakable in any state. It could be none other than Jazz. The young Polyhexian wanted to talk to Prowl so badly, to play a game with him. He wanted to just chill out with his best friend, with nothing for either of them to worry about.

Prowl, oblivious to anything but how dreadfully exhausted he was and how bad his own helm hurt, sank into recharge, ignoring his young friend prancing next to his creator.

* * *

Slow. Tired. Miserable. He felt all those things plus more as he slowly onlined. They were moving again. He knew that he had been in Synthesis' cab just a few breems ago. He was sorely disappointed to find them not at Jazz's home, but some odd building with great halls and a lot of mechs staring at them, pointing at them, flashing strange lights at them, and calling out their names. Prowl snuggled closer to Synthesizer's warm chassis as he tried to ignore the loud noises.

Everything was so jumbled in his optics and audios, it took him a few breems to realize that the noise had quieted and that he was being spoken too.

"Are you okay?" Synthesizer repeated, a bit worried as Prowl only looked at him with a blank look. Synthesizer bit his bottom lip at how pale Prowl was and cursed inwardly at the Cybertronian laws. It was way too soon for Prowl to be out of the hospital and in court.

He felt a bit relieved as Prowl nodded slowly before laying his helm back on the green and blue shoulder. "Where are we?" he mumbled, the words slurring into each other.

"A courthouse." Synthesizer answered softly, petting one of the Praxian's doorwings in an attempt to comfort him. "Remember what I said about the trial?"

Prowl nodded, not evening bothering to look up. He mumbled something more that Synthesizer thought was meant to mean 'yes'.

Synthesizer softly stroked the delicate wings as he planned his words carefully. In Prowl's state, no matter how advanced his processor was, the simpler the explanation the better, since this ordeal was going to be traumatizing enough. "A lot has been done while you were asleep. Your teachers have been questioned, and your school principal." He left out saying that they had also been questioned, rather intensely, by both the Enforcers and the lawyers.

Prowl nodded sleepily, his chevron poking Synthesizer in the neck as he moved his helm and Synthesizer wondered how much of it he really understood and if he was just nodding because he thought it was expected of him to acknowledge if someone spoke. Nonetheless, Synthesizer had to continue.

"Prowl, you're needed to make a testimony." Synthesizer explained and waited. Prowl had tensed up at the word 'testimony', maybe he understood after all. His thoughts were confirmed when Prowl looked up at him with his wide, hazy optics, a hint of fear buried just beneath the surface.

"I have to go in front of all those people?" Prowl slurred.

"No, no." Synthesizer calmed him, stroking his doorwings faster to calm him down. "It's only going to be one bot. He's going to sit down and ask you some questions. All you have to do is answer them truthfully." Synthesizer tweaked the wing he was teasing. "Think you can do that?" he asked playfully as he smiled down at the youngling.

Prowl nodded as he curled back into Synthesizer, trembling slightly. Synthesizer fell silent as he entered a large room. Curious, Prowl peeped out as they passed through. It was the empty courtroom. He would have been much more observant of the judge's and juror's stands if he had been feeling better, but was more than satisfied with a quick glance as they passed by.

Prowl was taken into a back room that was surprisingly cozy with dimmed lights. Thankfully the room was not dark enough to make it spooky or unnerving, but the dimmed lights did help him to open his optics wider without the light hurting his helm. As he glanced around, his optics fell on the single occupant of the room.

A femme, not a mech as Prowl had been led to believe, sat in a comfortable chair adjacent to a single, empty one. Built into the wall was a large mirror, and Prowl casually glanced at it, briefly wondering why such a large mirror would be installed in the small room if it was used to talk to other bots. Maybe other bots liked looking at themselves while they talked?

Prowl's attention was drawn back to the lean, magenta femme when she spoke to Synthesizer.

"This is Prowl?" she confirmed in a gentle, calm voice as she indicated the youngling with her helm.

Synthesizer nodded, kneeling and carefully depositing the youngling into the seat adjacent to the femme. "Yes, it is." he looked at the tired, ill youngling and regretted once again that the laws had forced Prowl to be pulled from recovery much too soon. But not only was the allotted orns for keeping the perpetrator in holding cells running out, the case was also grinding to a halt and Prowl was needed to give his point of view to move it along as both the key witness and victim. That Prowl needed to give his statement and views on what happened didn't bother Synthesizer. What bothered him was that the laws required it to be done in a courthouse with the necessary recording devices and witnesses. He glanced at the two-way mirror in the walls. He hoped they were feeling guilty as they stood listening. He vented and turned back to Prowl.

"Prowl, this is Technica. She's going to ask you a few questions, okay?"

Prowl nodded numbly, eyeing the purplish femme warily. She was tall and thin, with optics so blue that they came across as purple when stared at long enough, a perfect complement to her paint scheme. The semi-darkness of the room softened her colors, and made her sweet smile look just a bit mysterious. She held a data-pad in her hand and Prowl wondered if the questions they wanted to ask was on that pad. His helm was already starting to ache again and he didn't know how long he could stay awake.

Technica glanced at Synthesizer and nodded, indicating that she was ready to take the interview from here. Synthesizer smiled at her, and with a last pet on Prowl's helm, existed the room.

Technica waited until the door had closed before she turned back to Prowl, who was still in the process of staring at her. She shifted in her seat to sit in a more relaxed, open position, clearly indicating that she was not a threat.

"Hello, Prowl." Technica greeted gently and warmly. "As Synthesizer has explained what I am here for, would you mind if I explained what _you _are to do?"

"Answer you." Prowl answered instead. Her voice, while soft and gentle, still made his helm pound more. All the noise did.

"I'm sorry?" Technica asked, confusion in her voice.

"Answer your questions." Prowl rephrased, wishing that she would just get on with it and get it done with. Black spots were beginning to form in his vision. He'd read that that was either an indicator of a migraine or he was going to pass out. Right now, it seemed like a large mixture of both.

Technica smiled and nodded. "That's right. I have some questions here in this pad that I need to ask you. Some might be a little...prying and uncomfortable, but they need to be answered. If you are not sure what I mean, just tell me, and I'll ask it differently. Is that ok?"

Prowl nodded slowly, helm held low. Prowl lifted his optics to look at the femme, but the movement made his helm spin and even the dim light of the room made his optics hurt. He quickly ducked his helm again.

"It's ok. You don't have to look at me at all, but I need you to answer the questions, 'k?" Technica said gently. She pressed a button on her data-pad, making its dark screen light up and placed the pad on her lap. Prowl supressed a groan at the amount of glyphs he saw scrawled across it. Just how many questions was she going to ask?

Technica glanced at the mirror and gave a decisive nod before turning back to Prowl. "Alright, we're going to start with a few easy questions and then work our way to the hard ones, understand?" Prowl slowly nodded, trying not to jar his helm too much. "Good. Now, what is your full name?"

Hadn't she already said his name? "Prowl." he mumbled, hoping that the questions were all so short since it saved him a bunch of pain by not having to think.

"'Prowl' is not a nickname of any kind?" Technica continued.

"No." Prowl replied, praying that all the questions were this easy.

"Who was your adoptive caretaker up to a quartex ago?" Technica asked, writing down the answers as he spoke.

Prowl hesitated. "Slipknot." He finally replied in a whisper, his doorwings trembling even at the mention of the name. Where was he? Prowl glanced around the room, his processor spinning all types of bad scenarios if Slipknot should find him.

Technica nodded, her stylus scrawling down the single word and Prowl's reactions to it. "All right, this question might be a bit harder, but I want you to answer it, 'k? Prowl, did Slipknot ever do anything to make you uncomfortable?"

A little harder? Why not ask him to recite all the elements in the solar system? Actually, that might be easier as he knew most of them...

Prowl swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. His doorwings trembled visibly from the amount of strain he was putting his processor through as he replayed the question again and again, his mind filling with the countless times Slipknot did things to him. His helm started throbbing as his vision flickered.

He wasn't aware that he had made a sound, until he felt someone moving him. He was doubled over in the chair, digits clawing into his helm as sharp pain throbbed in the spot that had suffered the most damage. The throbbing neither increased nor decreased, but stayed at the same, torturous level of pulsating.

"I knew he wasn't ready for this." a deep scowl marred Synthesizer's faceplates as he quickly went into subspace for a syringe of medicine he had been supplied with.

Hadn't Synthesizer left the room? When did he come back? Prowl's doorwings jerked up in shock as the needle pricked his tube, but never made a sound as the liquid flowed in.

"Will he be able to continue?" Technica asked, offlining her pad, glancing at the mirror.

Prowl blinked lazily as the drug worked through his systems. He was barely aware as he was lifted and a pain chip was slid into his wrist. He tiredly lay his helm down on Synthesizer's shoulder as Synthesizer continued to rock him back and forth, whispering soothingly to him.

"I don't think so." Synthesizer replied, trying to keep his voice from sounding too snappish. "It is much too early to be putting this kind of strain on his he _needs _is _rest_."

Technica didn't even try to hide a vent of agitation. She ignored Synthesizer's glare at doing so as she spoke. "He is needed for this trial. Nothing can be done to help him until _he _gives a testimony. Besides, the laws doesn't provide for more time. Do you think we want to hurt him?"

"You want to question him?" Synthesizer dared, motioning to the more-then-half-asleep youngling on his shoulder. "Ask him a question. I'd _love _to see the answer you get."

Technica sent back the meanest look her gentle spirit would allow. She vented the next klik, her frame going lax as she did so. "Take him home, then. Let him rest." Synthesizer didn't even thank the femme for the suggestion. She continued on. "When can we expect him back?"

Synthesizer shrugged his free shoulder. "When he's at least lucid and well enough to speak without blacking out."

"Will four orns be enough?" Technica asked hopefully.

Synthesizer quirked an optic ridge to say 'as if'. "What about your laws?" He asked.

Technica vented again. "I have his reactions to the name recorded. It's not much, but I might be able to buy some time with that evidence, although it's going to be tough." She looked at the sleeping sparkling. "However, I don't think I'll be able to get more than that. Heck, I don't even know if they will make the extension as it's technically against the law."

Synthesizer groaned in frustration. "He is barely lucid enough to sit up straight for ten breems. He needs to rest. You saw his reaction to the name and you have the footage from the hospital. It's not explicitly spoken, but the implied evidence against the abuse ought to be enough to keep that, that _thing_ in holding cells for a few more orns while Prowl recovers." Synthesizer hissed. To him, this was as close to abuse as the courthouse will ever get.

Technica vented in exasperation. "You know that, I know that. But at the end of the orn, it's the Magnus's decision whether the evidence is enough to keep him there for a few more orns. But even the Magnus is limited in what he can allow without a statement from the victim. Remember this case is high-profile because it is the first of its kind since the new youngling laws. Hopefully it will set a precedent. But until the final verdict, we have to abide by the current laws."

The room fell silent as Synthesizer seethed inwardly and the social worker looked forlornly at the youngling curled up in Synthesizer's chassis. Technica perked up the next klik. "You have a son, don't you?"

"Yes." Synthesizer replied, already knowing where this was going. "Jazz can come at any time you'd like."

"Can you have him brought down tomorrow? It would be under the same circumstances Prowl's under." Technica explained, hoping to get a positive answer.

"I think he can, if nothing comes up." Synthesizer answered shortly. "Will that be all, for now?"

Technica nodded. She said nothing and contented herself with looking at her offlined pad as the door opened, the room flooding with light for a second, and being closed loudly the next. Sometimes this job didn't pay enough. She rose, subspacing the pad as she contacted the two lawyers and the Magnus.

* * *

DJ looked surprised as Synthesizer came through the door, a zonked out Praxian on his shoulder.

"Back so soon?" he asked innocently, noticing all too well the signs of a ticked off mate. Jazz looked at his sire curiously as his carrier huffed up the stairs. DJ rose. "Stay 'ere a klik, 'kay?"

"Yes'sir." Jazz nodded. He watched over the back of the sofa as DJ hurried up the stairs before turning his attention back to the cartoon he and his sire had been watching.

DJ easily found his mate, the green and blue mech laying Prowl down in a corner of Jazz's room on a pile of warming blankets and pillow cushions. Synthesizer had been upset that they didn't have a berth for Prowl for when he left the hospital, but somehow DJ had a feeling this had nothing to do with the berth.

"Somethin' wrong?" DJ asked, making sure to keep his distance in case Synthesizer took his question as an open invitation to tongue lash him.

Synthesizer instead remained sullenly silent, brooding as he tucked the sleeping youngling in. He pushed by DJ, and stormed into their berthroom.

Venting to himself, DJ followed, closing the door gently behind him and locking it.

"Syn, what's up?" DJ asked firmly, making sure not to come off as demanding. That would only put Synthesizer in a worse mood than he already was.

"Nothing." Synthesizer replied hotly, going into a drawer and then slamming it shut empty handed.

"Syn, somethin's gone and put ya in a bad mood." DJ stated, baring the doorway before Synthesizer could huff past him again. "Now, take a seat, take a breath, an tell meh what's goin' on. Ah thought ya was supposed ta take Prowl down to the court."

"I did." Synthesizer answered. "I took him down there, met up with Technica, and he couldn't handle it." He finished as he rubbed his hands frustratingly over his face.

DJ slowly went forward, and a teal and white servo slunk its way around Synthesizers shoulder. He tried to shrug it off, but DJ only pulled him closer.

Synthesizer was angry, and rightfully so. He had told the court that Prowl wasn't ready yet. He had been _adamant _about that fact. Did anyone listen to him, though? Frag, no! What did he know as stay-at-home carrier? No, the _medics _had said that he would be fine. Was he fine, though? He was, if fine meant drugged up and half-lucid. Damn Cybertron and its fragging laws!

DJ hugged him close as his frame started trembling with suppressed rage. "That what's put ya in a bad mood? The trip ta court?"

"I guess." Synthesizer vented tiredly as he leaned into DJ's embrace. "I managed to get Prowl some time to rest, though."

"What'd ya say ya'd do?" DJ asked with a smirk.

"I told them that Jazz would be down for interrogation." Synthesizer sighed.

"Tha's not a bad thing." DJ stated, rubbing circles on his mate's back. "Jazz was goin' ta have to do it sooner or later."

"Tomorrow." Synthesizer said aloud.

DJ hummed. "Guess a bit sooner than later, then. Don' worry. He'll be sat down, asked a few questions, and that's that. An', whos better at tellin' stories then Jazz?"

"As long as he doesn't exaggerate anything..." Synthesizer trailed off. The young Polyhexian was known to tell some tall tales. His older Polyhexian sire was known for stretching yarns as well, though.

"It'll go jus' fine." DJ said encouragingly. "An', once its outta the way, ya won't have'ta worry 'bout it anymore."

Synthesizer nodded a bit, now more than content to just stay in his mate's embrace. "I suppose you're right."

"Ah know Ah am." DJ chuckled. "Now, why don' ya chill out and have a wash? Yer all tensed up."

Syntheszier rolled his shoulder a bit, realizing once again that his mate was right. After checking on Prowl once more and making sure Jazz was behaving, he headed back up for a wash. DJ was just so annoyingly right all the time that he _wished _that he'd get something wrong once. And that he had access to a video camera when DJ did screw up.

* * *

_"Now, Jazz, just how long have you and Prowl been friends?" a gentle voice asked in a childlike manner. The white youngling looked at her oddly, he wasn't a sparkling, but answered her anyways._

_He shrugged as he did so, not exactly sure as to the exact date. "I dunno...'bout a vorn or so."_

_"So you know Prowl well?" Technica asked, her stylus never stopping moving even as she spoke._

_Jazz nodded confidently. "Yep."_

_"Now, I've heard that you and Prowl both go to the same school." Technica stated._

_"Sure do. Met 'im on 'is first day." Jazz said, sounding proud at the fact._

_Technica smiled as she nodded and wrote down the answer in shorthand. "Now, would you say that Prowl ever acted...different, from the other younglings in your group?"_

_Jazz shifted uneasily. "Well...kinda."_

_"Can you explain your answer?" Technica pressed gently, her stylus actually falling still._

_Jazz hummed as he thought a moment. Technica remained silent, allowing him to think. "Well, 'e's always been smarter. He finishes 'is work super-fast an' even helps meh at times."_

_"Is that all?" Technica asked, her stylus falling short once again. "How about during recess or activity times?"_

_"Prowler hates recess." Jazz stated as if he fact were one of the seven deadly sins._

_"Oh?" Technica humored, skilfully pressing Jazz for more information._

_"Yeah." Jazz nodded. "'Es only played one game outside... we tossed a ball a bit. He wasn't too terrible." Jazz looked embarrassed for his friend's lack of hand-eye motor skills. "He never seems ta 'ave enough..." his voice trailed off as he couldn't think off the word._

_"Enough what?" Technica prodded._

_Jazz scrunched up his face and thought hard. "Energy?" Jazz guessed, then thought about it. Yep. Prowler never seemed to have enough energy. "Yeah, that's it." He nodded with satisfaction, swinging his pedes in boredom. They'd been here for almost half a joor! "Energy." He confirmed. _

_"You two must have some kind of activity you do together." Technica stated in an asking sort of way._

_Jazz shrugged. "We play board games sometimes, but they're too easy for Prowler. We like'ta talk, though."_

_"Do you two have any favorite subjects to talk about?" Technica asked._

_Jazz nodded, visor brightening and darkening with the reflection of the above light. "We like ta talk about all the places Prowler's gone and where Ah'm from."_

_"Where are some of the places you talk about?" Technica questioned, adding a new question to her data-pad._

_Jazz through a second, his face pinching up as he mused. "Well, Ah tell 'im about Polyhex an' he tells meh all about places like Voc and Epsilon and Kaon and places like that."_

_The green femme made a slight face at the mention of 'Kaon', but remained silent. "Is Polyhex one of the places Prowl has travelled too?"_

_Jazz shook his helm. "No, 'e wants ta, though."_

_Technica nodded, writing the last answers down in shorthand for quick reference. "Alright, Jazz. Thank you for being very helpful."_

_"Am Ah done now?" he asked hopefully._

_Technica nodded as she chuckled. "Yes, Jazz. You're done for now."_

_The Polyhexian youngling pulled down his fist with a hissed "Yes."_

_Jazz started to rise from his seat as Technica turned towards the camera, and the image froze before going black._

The Magnus motioned for the recording to be turned off. An Enforcer obliged as the Magnus turned towards the courtroom. The young Prime was seated at his right hand, learning about the judicial process. To the right of the Prime, the red and white frame of the medic Ratchet sat. Farther off was the filled jurors' box, and then to the front was the sea of onlookers. It didn't matter how much publicity one got, looking out at a crowd that stared back was enough to make anyone's tanks flutter and their spark rate pick up. You just got better at hiding it the more practice you got.

The Magnus cleared his throat before speaking. "Briefcase, as you are Slipknots lawyer, you may speak first."

A tall mech thanked the Magnus as he rose, his red and black frame shining in the artificial light. He stepped around his client, the orange and yellow frame chained to the desk. He turned towards the jurors and seemed to address them more than anyone else in the court.

"This video feed was recorded just yesterday." he explained, motioning towards the offlined screen. "While we were unable to get Prowl's point of view, his friend, Jazz, made quite a few statements that I would like to speak on." he turned and took a few steps back towards the judge's stand, but didn't seem to be facing anyone in particular. "In the beginning of this recording, Jazz was asked if he had ever seen Prowl abused in any way. His answer, and I will paraphrase to save time, stated that he had seen his friend with bodily marrings."

A few helms nodded in the jurors stand as the facts matched up. Briefcase continued.

"I will have you note that Jazz never once _saw _Slipknot, with his own optics, lay so much as a digit on Prowl." Briefcase stated.

"Objection." a blue mech rose from his table. He was alone as today they were focusing only on the video. After the gavel had struck and he had been given permission to speak, Plaintiff pointed at Briefcase. "Your honor, we have medical proof of abuse and a video, which I must remind you was viewed three orns ago, from the hospital with that mech-" his digit extended towards Slipknot. "Abusing Prowl enough to have his systems crash a second time."

The Magnus nodded his helm. "Briefcase, I ask you to review your information carefully before making a statement."

Briefcase growled in frustration. "Your honor, this recording is all fine and dandy, but this case will get nowhere without a testimony from the possible victim himself! As our laws state!"

"Briefcase." the Magnus warned.

"Forgive me for the outburst, your honor, but it is the truth. This information that the second youngling has given us was a marginally more than the educators did. The only 'evidence', and I use that term liberally, was the footage from the hospital. My client has already stated that he was outside his own processor with worry since his youngling had gone _missing_. What happened in the hospital was an accident that was not meant to harm the youngling."

The Magnus refrained from pinching his olfactory ridge and turned towards the Prime, who only met him with a look as blank as the one on his own face. He turned back to the red and black mech. "Briefcase, do you have anything else to say about this recording?"

"None that I have not already made before with other interrogations." Briefcase replied.

"Then you may take your seat and Plaintiff with take your place." Ultra Magnus stated.

The blue and black mech, Prowl's designated lawyer, rose and drifted towards the jury. "You have seen the reports of the youngling, Jazz, and how he often remarked that Prowl would come to school dented and lacking 'energy.' Correct?" He asked to no one in particular. "Yet younglings their age are always running about, developing their skills on the playground, interacting with others, and being seen off by their creators. I want to draw your attention to the fact that Prowl did none of these things."

"Objection, your honor! That is not clear evidence of abuse!" Briefcase shouted as he jumped out of his chair.

"Overruled. Plaintiff, continue, but get to the point." Ultra Magnus said as he slammed his gravel once.

Plaintiff waited a moment before continuing. "Jazz and the educators never saw _any_ interaction between Prowl and his creator. He always arrived at school alone and unescorted. Furthermore it has also been noted by the educators that Prowl was absent from school on more than one occasion and Jazz accounted these times as Prowl being away to places such as Vos and Kaon. Hardly places to take younglings to."

"Objection! These statements have been made before and without the key witness to state what the nature of business was, we can only work on assumptions." Briefcase shouted again.

"Sustained. Plaintiff, these statements have already been confirmed by alternative interviews. Do you have different questions to ask or new statements to make?" Ultra Magnus stated.

"Your honor, my statements will only resemble the ones I have made before. I must agree with Briefcase on this. Unfortunately, there is nothing more to argue on without Prowl's own testimony."

The Magnus didn't even try to stop the sigh that left his lips. This case had been going on since the youngling had been admitted to the hospital nearly a quartex and a half ago. When news had reached them that he had been released and that a testimony from his was to be expected within the permitted time, they had hurried through a few others to focus more attention on the awaited recording. Instead, they were informed by the lawyers that Prowl, after the first attempted interview, was in no condition to be questioned and they had agreed that he would be given another five orns to recuperate before being interviewed again. By rights they were stretching Cybertronian law to the brink, but this case was very public and they could not afford to drop the case. However, due to these unfortunate circumstances, they were now worse off than before in the trial.

"Is there _anything _anyone wants to discuss?" Ultra Magnus asked hopefully. He was disappointed as helms shook and negative murmurs arose. He banged the gavel once. "Then this meeting is adjourned. The trial will be postponed until the necessary statement has been acquired from the victim and key witness."

* * *

Author's Note- I would like to thank **Nikkie2010** from the bottom of my heart for all the help she did on this chapter. I was so confused on the judicial part of this that it wasn't even close to funny. I want to thank you so much for sending me those links to children protection rights and minor trials and the like. They helped so much.

Also, I suffered major writers block on this chapter, so Nikkie bailed me out once again. I was so afraid to read this because I was afraid I would be so far off from the way it should be. I now know what to do with the next chapter(s), and am psyched!

ALSO, I take all blame for the-what- 2 week delay in this? It was entirely my fault. IN the 2 weeks this chapter was in the making, my mom had our 5th child (A BOY! OUT OF 4 GIRLS!), my dad's insane work hours were once again made hectic, and I was having health problem (have another doctor this week, so hope it doesn't screw with postings!)

AND, yes, there is more, the first few chapters (I think the first 2 or so) are going to be re-edited some time in the near/distant future. I don't know when, but I am working on that as well as other things...

All in all, to sum it up, hope the chapter was good, NIKKIE2010 IS THE GREATEST, I sucked to the tenth power these last few weeks, and will try to compensate with the next chapters!

Thanks to all my reviwers! Are you still out there? *taps glass*


	6. Chapter 6

The Praxian: Chapter 6

* * *

_The youngling shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if he was being watched instead of just having the one pair of optics on him. He moved again, his doorwings twitching in irritation as yet another question was aimed his way. It had to have been close to two joors, now._

_Technica vented softly as she onlined the next page. "Prowl, I've learned from Jazz that you two often talked about your travels. Can you tell me a bit about them?"_

_Prowl shrugged a shoulder. "Slipknot would take me different places at random times. I could never find a pattern in them... he wanted me to carry things."_

_"Can you explain?" Technica asked sweetly, stylus pausing a klik._

_Prowl rubbed the tip of his chevron nervously, thinking. It still hurt his processor, but not as bad as it had once been. "He would give me little boxes and have me subspace them, then take them back after we stopped."_

_"Could you tell what they were?" Technica pressed, peering gently at the youngling._

_Prowl shook his helm. "He told me not to play with them."_

_"Okay." Technica nodded absently as she marked that down. "Now, would you mind telling me what places you visited?"_

_"Kaon, mainly..." Prowl mused, looking at his hands in deep thought and missing the grimace from the femme. "We went to Vox twice...Epsilon once..." the youngling paused, face scrunching as he raked his processor._

_"Anywhere else?" the femme asked softly._

_Prowl nodded, still trying to think. "And...Tyger Pax."_

_"Does Jazz talk to you about places too?" the femme asked, recalling information from the other black and white youngling on a second pad._

_Prowl nodded. "He tells me about Polyhex and where he was born."_

_The femme smiled, a tugging at her spark turning it melancholy as she knew what she had to ask. Not yet, though. She still had to confirm all of Jazz's information, as well as the teachers', administrators', and Jazz's creators'. That'd buy them-particularly Prowl- some time._

_"I also heard from Jazz that you didn't like recess." she chuckled. "Is there a reason for that?"_

_The youngling frowned deeply at the question. He swung one of his pedes before stilling and twiddling his thumbs. "Well...I'm not very good at the games, I'm too slow."_

_"Is that all?" Technica smiled. "There must be something more. I have a youngling of my own, a little older then you, and she loves to play when given the opportunity. Between you and me-" her voice lowered an octave as if she were going to tell a deep secret. "She's not very fast."_

_Prowl squirmed, just barely noticeable, looking intently at the leg of the femme's chair. The magenta femme remained silent, letting Prowl take his time._

_"I-I was always too tired." Prowl admitted reluctantly. "Driving made me tired."_

_The femme nodded. That confirmed the second point, the first having been a subspace, the second being an alt. mode._

_"All right, we're nearly finished. I have a few more questions that might seem a bit...invasive." The youngling didn't look at her to clarify more, so she continued. "If there is something- anything at all- that you don't get or makes you too uncomfortable, tell me and we'll see if we can work around it, all right?"_

_The young Praxian nodded. "Yes, ma'am."_

_"All right." Technica silently vented in relief as she onlined the last page. There were a lot of questions on it, but it was the last page. "Now, Prowl, this question may sound...odd." she vented as she glanced it over. Usually, it wouldn't be on the list, but due to the young age of her client, it had to be asked. "Do you...know what interfacing is?"_

_She didn't know whether to vent in irritation or relief as he slowly shook his helm. "I don't think so..."_

_"You've never heard the term?" Technica asked. "Or spark merging?"_

_Prowl again shook his helm. "A-am I supposed to?"_

_Technica shook her own helm. "No, not yet.." _You shouldn't, anyways_. "Now, has Slipknot, or any mech, ever made you uncomfortable, or touched you where it made you feel uncomfortable?"_

_Prowl nodded his helm, doorwings hung lowly as he did so._

_"Can you explain?" Technica asked a second time. "Maybe just tell me who?"_

_"Slipknot." Prowl mumbled. "And-and there was a femme in-well, I don't know where- but she was a little..." Prowl trailed off as he couldn't pull up the right word. While he did have a rather advanced vocabulary, it only went so far. He shook his helm as he couldn't come up with the word._

_"It's all right." Technica comforted. "You only needed to tell me who. Do you know her name?"_

_Prowl mulled it over, pulling up the memory from nearly a vorn ago. "Heliotrope."_

_Technica nodded, writing down the single name. It looked vaguely familiar, somehow. A past case, perhaps? "All right, now, Prowl, would it be all right if we focused on you and Slipknot for a little while?"_

_There was a distinct tremble in the youngling's doorwings as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."_

_"Has Slipknot ever done anything to make you uncomfortable? Something that you felt was wrong?" Technica asked gently and slowly. It didn't matter how she put it, though, it would always sound too blunt and invasive._

_Prowl shifted uncomfortably, glancing up nervously at the femme before looking back down. His pedes kicked, and he didn't even try to stop them._

_"Prowl?" the magenta asked gently after a breem passed in complete silence. "Are you okay? Do you need it asked another way, or a break?"_

_The youngling shook his helm, mumbling softly. "Are we almost done?"_

_Technica smiled softly. "Yes, almost. I promise. Do you need the question repeated, now?"_

_The Praxian shook his helm once more. "N-no...I mean, yes."_

_"You need it repeated?" the femme asked as she lifted the pad from where it had rested in her lap._

_"No, I mean Slipknot did do somethings...that felt b-bad." Prowl suppressed a shudder. "He called them lessons."_

_"Can you tell me what he did during these 'lessons'?" Technica asked softly._

_Prowl's doorwings trembled visibly as he shook his helm. "I-I don't know, I mean, he never called it anything else but a lesson. He told me what t-to do, how to move, to p-purr."_

_"Purr?" Technica had to ask, tilting her helm in her own confusion._

_Prowl shrugged both shoulders, letting them fall. Technica nodded._

_"All right. During these 'lessons-'" she treaded lightly. "-did it ever involve you opening anything? On your frame?"_

_Prowl nodded slowly, optics wide in fear as if fearing a punishment. He knew that she needed to know, for the trial, but it never got rid of the terrible feeling that he had done something wrong._

_"Can you explain?" Technica pressed, her optics softly taking in the Praxian's body language. It was much easier to read than most younglings his age, due to his doorwings. Most Praxians of his age had a pretty good grasp on these extra panels, but due to his lack of guidance in them, they were dead giveaways to his emotions._

_"He showed me..." Prowl shifted. "How to open m-my chassis." he looked down at the floor. "And he took of my-" he intook sharply, squirming more. He wanted so badly for someone to be in here with him, instead of all alone in the big mirrored room. DJ, Synthesizer, even Jazz._

_"It's all right." Technica encouraged. "Take your time."_

_The youngling took a shaky vent in, and breathed out. "My c-cod piece."_

_The femme never made an outward motion, other then write it down in her note-pad. She nodded absently as she checked her internal chronometer and vented to calm herself. These discussions were trying on both ends. "All right, then. Thank you, Prowl. You're free to go."_

_"Really?" the youngling lifted his face, overly-bright optics from strain, suppressed emotions, and pain staring right into her._

_Technica nodded. I 'll just call your guardians back, and you can go back home."_

_"Thank you." the Praxian said as he unsteadily slid from his seat, still slightly weak and now lighthelmed from having been seated so long._

Ultra Magnus vented silently as the transmission screen went black, and an Enforcer came to take away the screen. Finally, something to go off of! Briefcase pushed back his chair, and took the floor.

* * *

Prowl?" Jazz whispered into the darkness, his visor lighting up a band across his green warming blanket. "Are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm." the Praxian hummed as he unshutterd his optics, two airy lights shining up to the ceiling and creating blue circles on it.

"Good." Jazz vented happily as he flopped himself on his chassis, facing where Prowl was supposed to be sleeping. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" Prowl asked, sliding to a sitting position. He was a little tired, but not as much as he had been for the past two quartexes.

Jazz shrugged, the motion going unseen in the dark room but the fact going unnoticed by the Polyhexian. "I dunno, but we haven' been able ta talk at all fer awhile."

"I'm sorry, Jazz." Prowl murmured, hanging his helm and lighting up his hands with his optics' light.

"Well, Sire said it was cause ya were real sick." Jazz stated as he squirmed on the berth to a more comfortable position until he plopped on his chassis. "Ah don' blame ya or nothin', jus' wanna talk."

"You said that." Prowl smirked as he too lay down on his chassis, mimicking the relaxed pose Jazz had taken. It felt better than pressing his doorwings against the wall. "But you never said what you wanted to talk about.

"Well..." Jazz drawled, the way younglings did when they knew something they shouldn't and were simply offlining to tell. "Ah overheard mah creators talkin'-"

"You were eavesdropping" Prowl corrected playfully, enjoying the way the visor dimmed with the narrowing optics.

"Anyways." Jazz rolled his optics, causing the light to go about. "Ah heard 'em talkin' about adopting ya."

"Adopting me?" Prowl parroted as his optics flashed in surprise. "Really?" _I didn't know they cared _that_ much._

Jazz hummed on the positive, rolling onto his back as he kept his feet on the pillow. "Ah wanted ta know what ya thought."

"Oh." the Praxian only managed as he stared down at the dark blue warming blanket he had been given.

Jazz frowned, flipping back over to face the Praxian easier, instead of looking at him upside-down. "Ya don' like it, do ya?"

"It-it's not that..." Prowl started slowly. "It's just, I don't know..." his voice trailed off again.

"Ah think ya do." Jazz stated as he sat upright. His visor dimmed to portray the hurt they hid. "Why don' ya like the idea? It'd make us bros!"

"I-I do like the idea, it's just... hard to explain." the Praxian floundered.

"Try." Jazz dared, anger now joining the hurt in his voice.

"Well..." Prowl vented, shuttering his optics and hiding away the light as he thought. They opened wide the next klik as it hit him. "You tell me all the time about Polyhex, right?"

"Yeah…" Jazz nodded, servos now crossed across his chassis in a sulky mood. "Why?"

"Well, you said that you have grand-creators there, and cousins and aunts and uncles." Prowl listed off the relatives. "And you left them all behind when you moved to Iacon...friends too."

Jazz hummed softly in agreement, the warm smiles of his aunts and uncles and the hugs he used to get from his grand-creators filling his helm. "Ah-Ah still see them at times, but not a lot anymore."

Prowl nodded slowly. "Do they all talk like you, like the same things you do?"

Jazz snorted. "Well, we all sound kinda similar but we sure don' all like the same things." Just ask his cousins. They fought like gladiators against one another, but, also, they all shared in games at other if not most times.

"I bet you miss them." Prowl said lowly, twirling his digits into the blanket and undoing it multiple times, trying to squish the jealous feeling rising up in his spark.

Jazz hummed, low as well. "Why are ya bringin' this up?"

"At least you have them." Prowl stated bluntly, glaring down into the blanket. It wasn't right to be angry at Jazz, but he couldn't help it at times. Jazz was so lucky, so fragging blessed, and at times he seemed too blind to even see it! "You've always had them, from the moment you were born. I've never even seen another Praxian before, though."

Jazz bit his bottom lip, shame washing over his spark. "Never?" he asked lamely. "Not even-"

"Never." Prowl stopped him. "I've read that Praxian sparklings learn how to use their doorwings by watching their creators. That's why I can't use mine, I think."

"Ya...wan' Praxian creators ta adopt ya?" Jazz asked softly, still sounding hurt but all the anger overcome with sorrow and pity.

"I'd like that, but doubt it'll ever happen." Prowl stated sadly, twidling his fingers in the blanket some more. "I-I like your family, Jazz, but it's still your family. Besides, I like being friends. It'd change so much if we became brothers, I-I don't want it to change." he stopped talking as his intakes hitched.

"Ah get it." Jazz vented. "Sorry fer gettin' angry at ya. Ah get ya, now."

"Do you think I'm selfish for wanting Praxian creators?" Prowl asked, as he couldn't help but feel that way with wanting something like that so badly.

"Why would it be?" Jazz asked. "'Sides, how else ya gonna learn ta use yer doorwings?"

Prowl snorted, smiling softly. He looked up to see Jazz sharing the same grin. Jazz's grin fell the same moment Prowl's did as a shadow streached beneath the door, looming about as a knock pierced the air.

"Mechlings? What are you doing in there?" Synthesizer's voice called in as Jazz dove under the covers as Prowl froze in place.

"Rechargin'!" Jazz called back, grinning as Prowl's chevron buried into the blankets at the sorry attempt at an excuse.

"Recharging, hmm?" Synthesizer repeated in an unconvinced tone. Jazz motioned hurriedly for Prowl to get back into his bed the right way, but the Praxian remained frozen.

The door slid open, a pair of optics and a visor lifting up to the green and blue form as he entered. He hid a smirk, having to keep the irritated adult look on as he tucked Jazz in properly and planted a kiss on his forehelm. Prowl scurried under the blankets as Synthesizer came to him, doing the same as he had with Jazz.

"Go to sleep, you two." he ordered crossly, just barely managing to keep the smile from his face. "You both need to rest."

"Yes, sir." both younglings said in unison, helms hung low as the door closed behind Jazz's carrier, his pedesteps heard retreating rather quickly a klik later.

Synthesizer only chuckled once he was safely back in his berthroom, gaining a very weird look from his mate in the process.

* * *

He headed to the berth, half gray as he had shed his armor in the wash racks and didn't care to replace more then the pede parts back. He normally wouldn't even put that on, but once his sleep-deprived mind had found himself half-dressed he didn't care to undo it again.

He slumped into the large berth with a 'thunk', smiling softly to himself but never lifting his helm as a slender, warm figure slid in beside him. Sleep was beckoning him, calling his name. Who was he to deny?

_Tap Tap Tap_

"Hmm?" the young Prime hummed from the pillow as the pink digit tapped him again. "What?"

"Optimus, I want to talk to you." Elita-1 stated as she pressed her back more into the laced pillows.

"Elita." Optimus vented, just barely summoning the strength to roll over. "It's late, the trial's starting extra early tomorrow, and I'm exhausted. Can it please wait?"

He sighed as she shook her crested helm. "No, it can't."

He flopped onto his back, shuttering his optics to the single lamp's light she kept on. "What is it?"

"I went to the trial today." Elita stated, images of the youngling repeating again and again. The way his doorwings trembled, his large eyes skilfully holding back tears – it was sparkbreaking.

Optimus hummed in slight interest. "What do you think?"

"About what?" Elita asked softly.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Optimus vented. "I know he needs help, needs to get out from under that mech, but the trial is hurting him just as much." his optics opened to look up into the soft blue ones of his mate. "It could take many more quartexes, groons-"

He stopped as her lips pressed against his, silencing him. He quirked an optic ridge at her as she broke it, only doing so to shut him up. She hovered above him, her warm vents beginning to lull him towards that recharge his systems craved so badly.

"You're doing everything just right." she promised as she sat back up, slapping his shoulder strut to wake him back up as his optics started to shutter. Was it really so hard to stay awake for five breems?

"What is it..." he jerked himself to save his shoulder strut. "...you wanted to talk about?"

"I think we should adopt him." Elita-1 stated bluntly, satisfied as the dim optics lit up in surprise.

"What?" the mech asked as he sat upright, the warming blanket sliding down to his waist. "Elita-"

"Just, hear me out." she pleaded, raising a hand for silence. He fell silent, but kept that look in his optics. The one that clearly said 'you had better have a good point to make or else I'm going to sleep.'

"Optimus, you promised me that we'd try for a sparkling." her helm went low as she started, her soft blue optics hiding behind rose pink shutters. They opened as a strong yet gentle hand cupped her cheek and turned it towards him.

"We will." Optimus said. "I've been so busy, though-"

"I know, I understand." Elita stated. "We have tried once or twice, but that obviously isn't going to cut it. Optimus, it's so quiet and lonely here while you're gone, and-" she took a vent. "You're gone so often and for so long-"

She stopped as he kissed her crest, shutting her up as well. "Ariel-"

"Don't you 'Ariel' me." Elita huffed as she crossed her servos. "You always say that just before you try and make something seem right."

The Prime cocked his helm. "Aren't I, though?"

Elita growled before giving a single nod. Damn him. Damn that stupid Matrix!

As if reading her thoughts, he took her hand. "I didn't choose this path, _Ariel_." he smirked slightly "If given a choice, I would still be a dock worker and Orion Pax."

"I know." Elita vented as she laid her helm on his shoulder, relaxing as he stroked her servo. "The Matrix chose you. Why, I'm still trying to figure out."

Optimus chuckled softly as he hugged her close, relishing her warmth. "If you're really serious about this-"

"Would I bring it up if I wasn't,_ Orion_?" she demanded, pressing into him for the same emphasis as glaring at him.

Optimus vented. How had he ever ended up with such a spirited femme? At times he couldn't figure out if he had proposed, or if she had made him. Or if she had just demanded they get bonded. Whatever the reason, he was stuck with her, not that he would have it any other way. "I'll look into it, I promise. I don't know if I can, though, as Prime."

"Why not? I'd think it would be easier to go through the adoption process if you were." Elita stated, now turning to face him.

Optimus shrugged once, his systems desperately needing the recharge and not allowing him to think properly because of it. "I don't know. People might believe I'm using my powers as a Prime to get him."

Elita hummed. Maybe she hadn't thought out everything. All she could think about was that poor youngling, tearing her spark in two. "What if..." she mused. "What if we act as host creators?"

Optimus hummed tiredly, interested but too exhausted to really focus.

"Think of it." Elita sat upright as she usually did when excited. "We could foster him, see if he'd even want to be here. It is an odd place for a youngling." Optimus hummed again. "All the while, we can look for other potential guardians and adoptive parents for him."

"I suppose so." Optimus said breathily, resting laxly against the headboard.

"Are you even listening?" Elita asked sharply, prepared to slap him again if need be. Optimus's shuttered optics flew open, saving his shoulder. "I've thought it through."

Optimus nodded, enough invitation for her to continue.

"A typical youngling needs creators, nurturing, a place to sleep, an education, amusement, and check-ups." Elita ticked the items off on her digits. "Prowl, though, due to his..."

"Glitch." Optimus filled in, optics shuttered again. Elita narrowed her optics in warning, but refrained from hitting him, though, as he did seem to be listening.

"His glitch." Elita repeated, softly. "He'll need more visits to a doctor, medication to control it, possible hospital visitations and even surgery if it acts up again. It's not really fair to a regular adoptive creator to take on so much all of a sudden. It might be overwhelming."

"You make a point." Optimus admitted, fighting off sleep to save himself an irritated mate.

"We can offer him all of it, we have more than enough room in this stupidly big _palace_." she huffed. "Ratchet is a good medic, and he'd only suggest other good medics, and-"

"Elita." Optimus shifted to look at her face, forcing his droopy optics open. "I understand. We may be best situated to care for him. You made your point."

Elita vented, then smiled softly, chuckling at just how tired her mate looked. She cupped his chin, kissing his forehelm. "Go to sleep, Optimus."

"Really?" the mech asked warily, eyeing her. He flinched away from her playful slap, sliding back under the covers. "Good nigh'." he mumbled as he shuttered his optics to the single lamp, instantly falling into a deep recharge.

"How does he do it?" Elita shook her helm as she shut off the lamp, sliding in beside him. She shuttered her optics, falling into recharge while making plans for how a youngling's room should look.

* * *

"And in final, I would like to plead with the jury to make the best decision possible." the black and blue frame of Plantiff seemed to glimmer in the artificial light. "Not only will it entirely decide the fate of young Prowl, but it could also decide the fate of many other bots and younglings who cross paths with this mech." a black digit extended towards the figure of the brown and orange Slipknot.

Ultra Magnus took a slow vent, letting the cool air flow through his shafts. The case was so close to closed that he could almost taste it. The only thing left was for the jury to discuss and decide on the charges. There was no doubt that Slipknot was guilty, but for what charges he would be found guilty would decide his fate.

He brought down the gavel and the jury rose as one, trickling into a back room to decide the verdict. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long.

Optimus looked up as the sound of creaky joints neared him.

"This will soon be you up here, in my place." Ultra said in a whisper so as to not draw unnecessary attention.

"Hmmm." Optimus returned, clear distaste on his face at the thought of having to be in Ultra Magnus' place. Right now all he had to do was sit and learn about the process. Sadly, his time as a student in these matters was drawing quickly to an end.

Ultra chuckled lowly. Primus, he should have retired millenia ago. They had time to kill, if not joors. Why not test the 'youngling'? "What is your opinion on this?" he asked calmly, making it seem the most innocent of questions.

"I have none." Optimus replied instantly, not falling for the simple trick. He vented as he continued, almost robotic as he repeated what had been so carefully pounded into his helm. "As a Prime and judge I cannot choose a side, as it could bias my judgement and change the turnout of the trial."

_Damn_. Ultra hid a frown. The Matrix picked a good bot to lead them. "Good, but as you are not the official judge in this trial, what is your opinion?"

"Personally?" Optimus asked for clarity, receiving a nod. "I think the mech should rot in the best- and by that I mean worse by the prisoner's point of view- prison Cybertron has to offer. If not the death sentence."

"Strong judgement." Ultra hummed, not exactly reprimanding him for his strong outburst. "May I ask why?"

"He harmed a youngling, plain and simple." Optimus started lowly, unable to hold down the passion burning in his spark. "An adult mech might have been able to defend himself physically or at least speak out. A youngling, especially of that age and size, couldn't even pry the mech's hand off their wrist if they had to."

Ultra gave a thoughtful nod of his helm as Optimus vented out, the younger mech trying to calm himself before he said something he might regret later on. "That's a good, sound point. I agree."

Optimus started to nod, stopping as he realized Ultra-as judge- couldn't agree with him. He stammered. "But-"

With a wink, Ultra withdrew. "Quiet down, Optimus. The jurors are returning."

Optimus pulled himself back into his own seat. This is where it paid to be an observer in the court trial. Especially from the front of the courtroom instead of behind with the rest of the onlookers. They couldn't see the shift of red optics and the way Slipknot uncomfortably moved his pedes, rattling the chain lightly that held him to the desk.

A silver mech remained standing in the juror's stand, a Vocian with large wings pluming from his back. After a small nod from the Magnus, he took a vent in. "We, the jurors, find the mech Slipknot guilty of, but not limited to, forced interface of one known minor, abuse of the minor, the dealing and use of illegal drugs, and the running of at least one interfacial ring."

Slipknot's ruby red optics darkened harshly, orange shutters narrowing into slits. His lawyer, the blue opticed, red and black framed Breifcase, didn't seem too upset by the charges. In fact, he looked somewhat, if Optimus read him right, pleased.

"Slipknot." Ultra Magnus spoke coolly, no malice in his voice despite the fact Optimus could see it glinting in the corners of his optics. "Due to these charges, you are no longer allowed within 100 astro-yards of a minor, and you are hereby sentenced to life in the Straxus Penitentiary, plus five millennia."

Optimus tried to keep the confused look from his face plates. Sure he understood that life plus any amount of vorns meant that that was only the added amount, as the time he should be spending far exceeded the mech's life expectancy. That, he got, sort of. He'd never fully understand just why the extra years were added to the 'life'.

Relief washed over his spark and the Matrix thrummed contentedly as Ultra brought down the gavel, signalling the end of the court trial and the beginning of Slipknot's time. He rose as the Magnus did, and followed him out. He vented in relief, bringing a hand up to his throbbing temple as they left the stuffy court room and all the bots and problems within.

"Trying stuff, hmm?" Ultra punned lamely, earning only an optic roll from the young Prime. "Don't worry, it only gets worse the more you get into it."

Optimus refused to even reply. He just wanted to ignore the fact that one orn, it really would be him in the judge's seat. Primus help me.

* * *

DJ strolled into the sitting room, taking a klik to take in the sight of his mate in an armchair, reading over a novel of some sort. On the floor, the two small frames of the black and white younglings played a game involving a triangular striped board and red and black 'stones'.

His always-there smile faded to near invisible as he continued to watch the two play their game. Jazz took up a small, black cup with two dice and shook it about, a white hand keeping the clacking cubes in place. He dumped it quite suddenly, the two white cubes going haywire and flying off in different directions.

"Not again." Prowl groaned lowly as one hit his foot and the other slid beneath the sofa.

Jazz crawled on his hands and knees, laying nearly flat the next klik as he grabbed it up. "Three." he read the line of dots.

"You moved it." Prowl insisted, looking at the one by his foot and the two black dots.

"Did not!" Jazz exclaimed, grabbing up the other one and adding it. "Five altoget'er."

"It doesn't count now." Prowl stated as he picked up the small cup and held it out to Jazz. "You have to roll again."

"Do not!" Jazz exclaimed, picking up a red chip and beginning to move it three places, and two with the other. "Ha! Ah knock ya outta yer spot."

Prowl vented as he removed his black stone. "Still doesn't count."

"Why don' you two hang up on yer game a sec?" DJ suggested as he left the doorway and sat down on the edge of the sofa. "Ah got some news that ya might wanna hear."

"What is it?" Jazz asked eagerly, rising too quickly and kicking the game board in his haste and messing up the chips. "Oh no!"

"Oh, well." Prowl vented in indifference, picking up one of the scattered chips and dropping it into the box.

"Ah was winnin', though!" Jazz exclaimed, optics wide in disbelief at how he could have been so dumb. "An' Ah never beat ya at this!"

Prowl only shrugged, a small smirk picking up the edges of his mouth.

DJ laughed as he patted Jazz's shoulder. "Better luck next time. Leave it fer now, Prowler." the youngling's doorwing twitched at the nickname and how both native Polyhexians used it in place of his real name. "Come sit, Ah got some news on yer case."

Sythesizer set his data-pad aside on the arm of his chair. "Is that who was on the comm.?"

DJ nodded. "Yep. Turns out, Prowler won 'is case."

"Yes!" Jazz pulled back his fist as he jumped up. "Tha's even better than winnin' a game!"

DJ chuckled and hummed in agreement. "Ya'll never guess jus' _who_ called ta tell meh tha', though."

"Wasn't it Plaintiff?" Synthesizer asked with a tilt of his helm. It tilted more as DJ shook his helm.

"Nope." DJ smirked at the three confused and quizzical looks aimed his way. "No more guesses?

"Stop being an aft, 'Jay." Synthesizer huffed, hating secrets more than anything. Well, less than Slipknot, but he still hated secrets.

"Optimus Prime." DJ stated confidently, raising his chin as if prideful of the fact that he had just come off a conversation with the young Prime.

Synthesizer's optics widened, both in shock and disbelief. It didn't feel like DJ was lying, but still, the Prime? "Optimus _Prime_?"

"The one an' only." Dj said with a firm nod. "'E wants ta meet'cha, Prowler. Turns out 'e an 'is mate are thinkin' o' adoptin' ya."

"Adopt?" Prowl repeated quietly. His doorwings lowered a bit in disappointment, and didn't go unnoticed by Jazz or his creators. "But-"

"We know." Synthesizer saved the youngling from an awkward speech. "Jazz told us about you wanting Praxian creators, right?"

Prowl didn't know whether to glare at the Polyhexian or not. He settled on an uncertain nod of his helm. "Yes." he admitted carefully.

"There's nothing wrong with that." Synthesizer insisted. "It only makes sense that you would want bots similar to your own heritage to watch over you."

"We could jus' tell the Prime tha'..." DJ started, trying to hide the uneasiness in his voice. Commoners telling the Prime 'no'? _There's a headline for the _Iacon Daily_. _"Ah'm pretty sure he'd understand."

"Why don't you meet with him first?" Synthesizer asked, liking the idea of refusing the Prime as much as his mate did. "I'm sure he'd understand if you still didn't want to, but you should give them a chance to at least explain first."

Prowl shuffled his pede, feeling very put on the spot. "A-all right." he agreed. "I'll speak with him."

* * *

If Prowl's optics looked half as wide as Jazz's visor was, they must have taken up his entire face. Numbly, he stretched out his hand to take the Prime's. His optics fell from the deep blue optics smiling down at him, to the giant red and blue hand that seemed to swallow his own black one.

"It is nice to meet you, Prowl." Optimus said gently, straightening up to his full height after releasing the small hand.

Prowl swallowed, his processor failing him as to what to say. Jazz, sensing his plight, helped by elbowing him harshly. "You too." he burst out lamely. This was a great way to start off a conversation with potential adoptive creators. On top of that, speak to the Prime.

"We've wanted to meet you for a while now." the rose pink femme by the Prime's side stated as she too pressed her soft hand to Prowl's.

Oh, right. The first femme was here too. The adults exchanged greeting and pressed hands as well, much better than Prowl had and much calmer than Jazz had (the latter had nearly jumped out of his armor after being addressed by the Prime).

Prowl took the seat he was motioned to, thankfully seated next to Jazz. His processor whirled as he tried to focus on the now instead of the last five orns. It seemed to have been a big ordeal trying to figure out just how to have Prowl and his potential adoptive creator's meet. It turns out a Prime can't just go to anyone's house, and the adults had thought it might be too much pressure if they took both younglings to the Capitol Building, so in the end they had all ended right back at the courthouse.

Prowl forced himself to listen as he realized that he was being spoken to.

"We have been informed, though-" Elita continued, maybe he should have paid more attention. "-that you wish for Praxian creators to adopt you?"

Now he wished he could tune out again. It felt like all optics were on him, which wasn't all that far off from the truth. Primus, how he hated being the center of attention!

Jazz nudged him under the table with his foot, again telling him that he needed to answer. And, even though it was never shown, Prowl knew that Jazz had winked.

"Y-yes, ma'am." ha gave a little nod as he stared at a scratch on the table. "But, I know that that's tricky."

"Not at all." Optimus interjected. It had been decided that he wouldn't speak much, Elita being a bigger talker and that he might be rather intimidating. It was times like this he wished he could hang up the Matrix and return as a dock worker. "We only wish for what is best for you."

Prowl squirmed, slightly uncomfortable at the statement. If they really cared, wouldn't they just give him some space and leave him alone?

"Would Jazz still be allowed to see him?" Synthesizer spoke up, his spark clenching but not so much as a waver in his voice showed his nervousness.

"Of course." Elita confirmed with a nod of her crested helm. "He could even continue attending the school he is at now, if he wishes so."

"Yes." Jazz hissed, pulling back his fist before freezing and looking up. His sire smirked lopsidedly as his carrier refrained from face-palming. The Prime and his mate just smiled. He, on the other hand, ducked his helm and quickly folded his hands like a good little youngling.

"What do you think?" Synthesizer asked, turning towards Prowl. "You've heard all the options, now you have to decide."

"Syn." DJ said softly. "Give 'em some time."

"As terrible as this may seem." Optimus spoke up, hating how everyone fell silent and attentive as if he were a military general and they his soldiers. He only wished to be here as a hopeful adoptive creator, not their Prime. "Prowl might have to answer rather quickly. A guardian or caretaker must be assigned soon, or else the orphanage will have to step in and he will be taken back."

"But we're 'is assigned guardians." DJ stated, firmly but not enough to cause alarm if it happened to be taken the wrong way. This Prime seemed nice, though. Just trying to be another mech, only with a lot more pressure than a typical mech. "We were assigned durin' the trial."

Optimus gave a single nod. "Yes, you were. Sadly, it was only to save time. There is a lot of paperwork and trouble in taking a youngling back as a ward of the state, and even more so trying to get him back out once reclaimed. To save time and trouble, and as you were already taking care of him, you were assigned."

"But now..." DJ vented, reality sinking in like a stone in water. "Now they're tryin' ta get 'im back."

"Unless adoptive or at least host creators are found, he will be taken back." Elita stated. "I have to agree with Optimus and your mate, the faster this is decided, the better."

Prowl hung his helm and his doorwings lowered as DJ sent an apologetic glance his way.

"Well, Prowler," DJ hid a smirk as the youngling's doorwings involuntarily jerked at the use of the nickname. "Ah guess it's all up to you, now. What is it that you want?"

"Remember." Elita added gently. "If you ever change your mind about any arrangement, it can always be changed back, okay?"

Yeah, that helped. 'If you don't like one of us, just say so and we'll give you back.' Why didn't that sound comforting, despite how it was said and meant?

Prowl turned and looked towards Jazz for help, but the other black and white youngling seemed just as much as a loss as he was. "Least we can still see each other..." Jazz shrugged.

Prowl turned away, looking up at the four adults patiently waiting for him to decide. "I guess-I guess I can try it." he too shrugged, at a complete loss as to what to do. "I'm sorry, but-"

"With us?" Elita asked, her spark warming as the youngling bobbed his helm slowly.

Prowl's doorwings remained drooping as he looked towards Jazz' creator's. While they smiled reassuringly, he could see the hint of hurt in their optics at his 'choice'. Jazz didn't even try to hide the frown on his face, deep down knowing that it most likely wouldn't happen, but having his spark set on having Prowl as his brother.

Prowl looked down at his hands once again, one line repeating itself through his processor again and again.

_What have I done?_

* * *

Author's Notes- Forgive me! Please don't kill me! I know this took awhile (Things still uber hectic around here) But, look, it is here! At last. That's all that matters, right? Logically, even if this had been posted sooner rather then now, you would have still read it and awaiting the next chapter, so you are no better off now then you would be then.

See? Simple logic rules all. ;D

Did anyone see that twist coming? Thank you to all my reviewers, if I had better internet time this spot would be dedicated to you, with all your names in bold print! Here...imagne all you reviers name's right here - Now we're all good.

Shout out to an angel cleverly disguised as a beta- **Nikkie2010**. Lord only knows how this story would have turned out had you not guided me (and still are with your tips!).


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